Shades of Grey
by Destiny's Darkness
Summary: In matters of black & white, there's always grey... Hermione's a bookworm at school, but what about when school's out? Harry's oblivious to her feelings for him, so while on break in London with the boys, she's moving on with life. At least, she'll try.
1. Chapter 1

**Shades of Grey  
**by Destiny's Darkness

Disclaimer: If you think I own anything, you're in for a laugh. One of those belly-aching ones. Where you can't get up from the floor.

**  
Chapter One**

Hermoine was done with it all. The perfect friendship and the hope it could become something more. The inside jokes, the amusing anecdotes, the foolhardy adventures. The hours spent confiding about love and life, staring at him when she was supposed to be studying or finishing homework. The smiles, the touches, the way he never seemed to notice. It was finished, complete, and over. She'd fooled herself for too long, allowing herself to hope for the best and believe in an impossible future.

_He knew her,_ her mind wailed to her heart. _Didn't they tell her that no one who knew her could help but love her?_ Trembling hands wiped some of the tears from her face, at the same time brushing loose hair from those wet eyes. An unwanted little voice spoke up in her heart. _He does love you,_ it snapped. Hermoine winced at the harsh reminder. _And for that matter, he doesn't really know you, does he? You've only shown the one aspect of your personality. You wouldn't let him see the rest, and he's never seen you outside of school. School and the magical world._

She knew that little voice was trying to distract her from her self-pity and replace it with annoyance. But she was hurting too bad to care. His face loomed in her mind's eye, exactly as he'd looked before. The unruly black hair tempted her to brush it out of those green eyes. That all-too-enticing mouth grinned without realizing his words ripped at her heart and soul.

"I love you," she'd whispered, having gathered the vast amounts of her courage to murmur those three words. He looked at her from across the table, the corners of his mouth turning up into that beautiful smile.

"I love you, too, Hermoine," he'd chuckled. One of those incredible hands reached across their homework and gave her own fingers a squeeze. " I though you knew that."

Her heart, her traitorous heart, skipped a beat.

"I mean, you and Ron are my best friends. I love you like a sister." The organ began beating again just in time to shatter. "Probably more than sister actually. After all, you never stuck gum in my hair, or tried to get me in a dress or make-up."

She couldn't help but smile in return, the joy fading from her face once he turned back to his work. She excused herself, gathered her belongings, and fled to the Gryffindor common room. She almost managed to suppress the tears until she made it safely to her room, the first few running down her cheeks as she darted up the stone steps.

Her work dropped to the floor before she could stop her arms from releasing the books. Her brown eyes became clouded as her vision retreated to her inner torment. She wrestled with her emotions until she realized that at some point, she'd fallen to her knees. Breathing deeply, she concentrated on banishing her talkative inner demons into a soundproof box. They resisted, but the brunette's anger convinced the irritating creatures that escaping would be in their best interests.

She collapsed on the bed and into teats. Gasping for breath that was merely released in sobbing, she spiraled from disillusioned to hopeless. Slowly the color returned to her vision and even-ness to her breathing. The emotional explosion faded, leaving only one repeating question in her mind. _Why was she surprised?_

Harry adored Cho, and had for years. Hermoine had been privy to his most private dreams and thoughts regarding the older girl, even acting as a go-between last year when they'd finally gotten over their stupidity and begun dating. Even now they exchanged letters on a regular basis, and Harry had confided in his friends that there were plans to move in together once he finished this final year at Hogwarts. He swore up, down, left, and right that nothing had occurred between them beyond the occasional make-out session, but they all knew he was lying. Badly. Hermoine had more than once rubbed her knuckles into her temples as she was doing now in an attempt to grind out that particular bit of knowledge.

She straightened, sitting up on her bed, and decided to move on. Hermoine had a gift for controlling her emotions, if she wanted to end a crush it ended. She simply told herself that she and Harry were nothing more than friends, never had been, never would be. And that was it. She'd move on, find some guy to get busy with. She smirked, remembering that the next day was in fact the last before winter break. She'd go back to London, visit some old haunts… Her smile soured. She'd promised Harry and Ron that she'd take Lupin up on his offer to house them over break, and the boys were practically foaming at the mouth in anticipation. Voldermort was dead, betrayed by one of his most loyal supporters, and the rest of the Death Eaters had fallen victim to the Ministry's "Hand of God" spell. There simply was little that could be a threat to the trio of teenagers. And it wasn't like they needed a chaperone to keep them in line, oh no, not them. Even thinking that caused Hermoine to have the same reaction to Mrs. Weasley's proclamation as the first time Ron's mother announced it at dinner, one of scorn.

They'd likely slaughter her if she skipped out on the trip completely, they knew perfectly well that her presence had more than tipped the scale in their favor in the contemplation of their maturity, but there was no need for her to follow them around like a lost puppy, was there? She'd simply beg out of their plans by claiming intentions of visiting places they'd never enjoy, libraries or museums or the like, and then go where she pleased. Child's play, really.

That was it. Hermoine was done with it all. She refused to act like a schoolgirl with an eye on the forbidden fruit. She could hardly imagine behaving as such; though she was said schoolgirl, the brunette had far too much pride for that sort of nonsense.

And it wasn't like she was desperate or out of prospects. The thought nearly caused her to laugh aloud. Granted, no one at Hogwarts took her seriously, partly because of the damn anti-Muggle spells and partly because she refused to lower her standards for them. Not that they'd seen it that way. Oh no, you see, the perfect Hermoine Granger was too much of a bookworm, had extra IQ points instead of hormones and all, to date and for that matter, what self-respecting guy would date a girl like her, too smart to just cuddle up and smile endearingly, no need for a girl who so easily made them look stupid.

She paused to inhale, wondering when, and how, the hell she'd managed to get herself so worked up. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, unable to restrain her grimace at the feel of frizz. She tried another deep breath; this one was better, allowing her to relax just enough for the anxieties to dissipate. _I guess I was a little more fond of the Boy-Who-Lived than I realized_, she thought and was surprised by the hint of amusement in her tone.

"God, Hermoine, what happened?"

Lavender had returned from classes. As her wide eyes took in the ink spills and mess of paper, Hermoine mentally cursed.

"Just lost my temper is all," she replied smoothly. She used her fingers to comb the hair from her face once more and sent up a quick prayer that her nose and eyes weren't as red as she knew they were. Lavender stared at her anxiously.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Of course," the brunette lied. "I just got a little frustrated finishing up my scrolls for Potions. I mean, do you realize that we're at least three weeks behind the recommended curriculum. Really! I mean, I never though I'd be the one to say it, but Snape really was a superior Potions professor. This new idiot doesn't know toadstool from… toaststool."

Lavender narrowed her eyes in concentration. "Um, right," she agreed quickly, "which is ridiculous. They're nothing alike."

Hermoine didn't know how she masked the sarcasm. "They are. First years can tell them apart." She didn't want to guess when Lavender would realize there was no such thing as toaststool, instead crouching down to clean up some of her dropped homework. "What a mess," she groaned.

Later, when Hermoine went down to the Great Hall for dinner, she overheard her roommate telling her friends about how Hermoine had blown her top because their Potions class was moving too slowly. "She flew into a rage; I mean, she nearly destroyed our room." The brunette considered chewing the girl out, or at least settling for the Cruciatus Curse, but decided on simply rolling her eyes.

And regretted the action as soon as she sat down next to Dean Thomas.

"Feeling better?" Harry inquired.

She looked at him in confusion. "About what?"

"About Potions. Lavender told us you'd really worked yourself up over getting behind."

"That stupid twit," she growled, eyes narrowed, turning to fly out of her seat, and hand reaching for her wand.

Both Ron and Dean pulled her back down. "Calm down," the red-head chuckled. "It's not that big of a deal. Just relax."

"I can't believe she was stupid enough to buy that lie! Does she have any semblance of brains?" she snapped. Seamus' jaw dropped at seeing the typically reserved girl so pissed off. "I could really use a drink," she muttered darkly and under her breath. Dean ignored the comment, thinking he'd imagined such an odd phrase coming from Hermoine's mouth.

Harry rested his hand on hers. "Ignore that idiot," he coaxed. "You've never been that easy to get at before. Don't let her get to you now."

Hermoine's reluctant little smile made Ron, Dean, and Seamus perform beautiful double-takes. The anger had almost completely left her face, and his was more affectionate that usual.

"Methinks there's love in the air." And for once, Ron agreed with Seamus.

So, what do you think? Please review and let me know. Don't worry, I'm not going to threaten not to write more. I'm just going to let you know I'm horrible about writing unless I know someone wants to read it. (Flames permitted as long as you specify what you feel is wrong- can't fix it if I don't know what "it" is...).


	2. Chapter 2

**Shades of Grey**

By Destiny's Darkness

Disclaimer: You'll note that when I posted the last chapter, I owned nothing. Isn't it sad how that hasn't changed?

Author's note: Don't worry, I'll make this quick. Thanks to everyone who reviewed; I ** really **hope you'll keep doing so. Thanks for the correcting my spelling of Hermione- didn't realize I was doing that. And by the wayI might surprise you. I'm not entirely sure that I'm going to pair Hermione with Harry…

**Chapter Two**

London was dreary the day they arrived home, as much as Hermione enjoyed the rain and cold. She forgot to be excited as she stared out the train window. The guys had disappeared to double-check the luggage for the fourth time, forbidding anything to delay the beginning of their three weeks of freedom. Lupin told them he was planning to check up on them on a frequent basis—he wasn't dumb enough to stay in the house with three teenagers—but he was also planning on "checking up" on the pretty werewolf he'd managed to meet during the Second Wizard's War, those eighteen days that it lasted. There was a bet on which household was more likely to be forgotten; apparently this lady wolf was also an extremely gorgeous witch. Privately, Hermione believed it would be a miracle if he visited more than four times.

"Hermione, get up. Let's go," a certain redhead hollered from just outside the compartment.

"Ron, the train hasn't even stopped yet. And quit freaking out it's quite the turn-off."

His head had gotten far enough into the doorway for Hermione to see his jaw drop. "Did you just make a joke about my sexual prowess?"

"Of course not," Harry interrupted smoothly, squeezing past Ron to take the seat across from Hermione. "After all, that implies you have sexual prowess."

Ron opened his mouth to reply, instead turning suddenly to Hermione. "If that's—"

"No," she interrupted, "I was not previously turned on or attracted to you." She stared evenly into his glare. And fell into his lap when the train suddenly jerked to a stop.

"All right!" Ron hollered as he yanked the flailing girl to her feet. "You okay? Good. Can you believe it? Three weeks! Three weeks of freedom, of no chaperones, no chores, no worries!"

Green and brown eyes rolled in unison. "Ron, we have responsibilities over break. You do realize that, don't you? The food isn't going to buy itself."

"Or cook itself," Hermione added, not quite amused by Ron's shock at the very idea. "I may be the only female, but I am most certainly not going to be the only one doing the chores."

"You'll cook though, right?"

"Ron, I don't cook."

"I do." Harry's voice surprised the two, who were steadily approaching a screaming match. "The Dursley's tried to make me cook for them before Dudley got shoved on his diet. I'm no four-star chef, but I don't burn the toast. So I can cook."

Ron's relief was evident. "Thanks, mate. You really don't want me to cook."

Neither looked particularly surprised at the announcement.

"I mean, I—"

"Forget it, we understand," Hermione interrupted, failing in her best attempt not to roll her eyes. "But wasn't it you who was so anxious to get off of the train? Let's go. We've a long day ahead of us and personally, I'm not so sure where Lupin's house is."

"I know where it is," Harry grunted as he tried to lower her trunk from the overhead rack. "I stayed there right before Voldermort attacked. Lupin doesn't stay there very often, it's too big for a single guy after all, so don't expect much in the way of clean or organized or whatever." Finally, the trunk gave way and landed on the green-eyed boy's foot. "Damn, Hermione, what all do you have in here? Trees? Trolls? The library?"

"All of the above. Can we get off the train?" Ron, of course, was impervious to Hermione's annoyance at his answer. "Time hasn't exactly stopped, after all."

"On to Lupin's," Harry chuckled. "And on to winter break."

They found Lupin's house in under twelve minutes, much to Hermione's surprise. Located in the area of London known for its clubs and bars, it could have been in a suburban neighborhood—though Harry had been generous when he warned them not to expect a well-cared-for home. The blue paint peeled from the shutters with the speed of a falling spacecraft. They looked at the front hallway for a few minutes, just stood there and looked while Harry found a safe space for the key Lupin gave them. The inside was less depressing than the outside. Despite the not-so-fine layer of dust coating every surface, Lupin's house was a great deal cleaner than the outside, or knowledge of the owner, had led them to believe.

"I'm not much for cleaning," Ron read from their old professor's note, " but I'm sure Hermione knows the perfect spell to get this place into tip-top shape. No parties, no drugs, and I'd say no visitors of the opposite sex, but I remember my teenage years far too well – and recollect it mostly in a variety of female forms – to expect that. Take care of the boys, Hermione, I know that I can depend on you to make sure they don't get in trouble. See you all in a couple of days." He looked up in annoyance. "How come Hermione is always responsible for our behavior?"

"Really…" she added dryly, wandering down the hallway. "This room's mine."

Harry peeked in behind her. He grimaced at the dirty furniture, but there was nothing particularly special about it. "Why?"

"It's separate from the other bedrooms. I really don't need to be privy to all of your business over break. Not that kind of business anyway. Excuse me." She moved past him to look over the other rooms. "And I don't particularly fancy the idea of one of your visitors stumbling into my room on accident."

"Visitors." Harry spat out the word in shock, short and quick.

"Please. I hardly believe you and Ron were panting to get here so I could take you on a fascinating tour of London's museums and historical landmarks. I'm a bookworm, Harry, not an idiot."

He watched the girl wander down the hallway before he remembered to shut his gaping mouth. Well, sure, he and Ron expected to get acquainted with the London night life, but as to, well, sex… he really wasn't planning on it. Hermione's voice echoed through his head. She'd sounded so calm, confident; her words even and flowing with acceptance. Interesting, Hermione seemed fine with the idea of living three weeks under the same roof as two boys exploring the fun of moral debauchery. He wondered what Ron would say.

The said teenager had picked his room as well. Harry found him beating the bed with a rug. Clouds of dust rose into the air in vast, oppressive concentrations before being sucked out of the room by the open window. "What are you doing?" Harry chuckled.

"Just getting some of the grime out."

"Did you ever consider just washing the sheets?"

"Nonsense. The sheets aren't that dirty. Plus Hermione isn't going to do it for me, and I don't think I can. They'll do for now."

"No girl is going to climb in that bed, Ron. Not one you'd want in there anyway."

Ron grinned. "Who's to say that I don't like those kind of girls? And do you really think that I could sneak them past Hermione?"

"I'd say you don't like those kind of girls, and I think Hermione may be on drugs."

The redhead tripped over his feet. "Excuse me? I think I've got dust in my ears."

"No doubt. But I was just talking to Hermione, and she told me that she just didn't want anyone confusing our rooms. Those were her exact words, by the way."

"My exact words were that I didn't want one of your visitors stumbling into my room, but I suppose that's close enough."

The two boys turned to the doorway, and Hermione rolled her eyes at their identical guilty expressions.

As she walked to their sides, she waved a hand in front of her face in an attempt to clear the air before continuing. "You two are going to the store, just to let you know. The kitchen is completely empty. Do you need a list, or can you just grab what you want?"

"We'll just get what we see," Ron decided. He paused a moment longer. "Is there anything in particular that you want?"

"No, not really."

"Then why would we need a list?"

Her quick snort of laughter failed to answer Ron's question. "My dad. He can't go to the store to pick up milk without a list. He ends up coming home with two dozen roses and no milk."

Harry smirked. "Your mom probably doesn't mind the flowers."

"That's what he says. But roses don't go down easily. Thorns make drinking difficult." She shook her head with amusement, nearly lost in the memory of her father's escapades. "Anyway, it's nearly seven, so I'd go ahead and get the food."

"Okay, sure," Harry replied, already en route to his wallet. "I think we passed a supermarket on the way here, just a couple of blocks away, and the rain's stopped. Any reason we couldn't walk?"

"Only if you buy twelve bags of groceries. Though I'd like to see the famous Harry Potter struggle with that."

"Wait," Ron interrupted, "are we talking about a muggle store?"

"Their food isn't much different. Won't kill you by any means." Harry absolutely refused to laugh at Ron's expression.

"Are you kidding me?" Ron yelped in excitement. "You know my dad. He's going to bust something when he finds out."

"You have to promise to act normal," Hermione warned. "Don't stare or point or anything."

"Don't worry, I said my dad would bust something. I'm not my dad."

He regretted those easy, confident words as he and Harry wandered the aisles. Everything seemed alien and strange under the florescent lights. The artificial beeps and buzzers of the computer registers made him jump. And the large variety of goods nearly gave the sheltered wizard-boy a heart attack.

"How do Muggles come up with all this stuff?" he whispered as he stared at the box of juice-filled gummy snacks Harry grabbed. "I mean, are there people who just sit around and come up with this?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, yes, there are."

Ron didn't appear to believe Harry. "And what's this?" he asked, holding up a square of plastic.

"It's a compact disc, a C.D. Well, the case for one, anyway. Throw it in the basket; I don't have that one yet."

"What's it for?" Ron asked as he dropped the square.

"Music. You know, like the radio."

"Oh, right. And this?"

"Flashlight."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"It produces a light."

By the time Harry had picked up the basic necessities, he'd come to the conclusion that Ron had asked every conceivable question about supermarkets. And once they reached the check-out counter, he discovered he was wrong. The girl running the register ignored the redhead's stares, his questions that started as whispers but failed to stay as such, his random examination of the steps of the check-out process. He stopped her repeatedly to watch the laser scan the bar-code and asked random questions about the basics of the Muggle money system. Yet, the only emotion the cashier showed was amusement at Harry's embarrassment.

"Have a nice night," she offered automatically as she handed Ron the ninth and final plastic bag.

"You too," Ron replied, smiling and turning away. "Oh, wow!" he exclaimed as he half-jogged to the vending machine that caught his attention. "Look at this thing. What does it do?"

"Sorry," Harry muttered at the girl's expression. "First time in a grocery store." At her amused laugh, he couldn't help but wince at the truth of the statement.

"Thanks, pal," Ron joked as they left, juggling the bags between his hands. Night had started to fall during their adventure in the supermarket. Lines of people began to appear at the entrances to clubs and bars, all of which had loud music pouring into the streets. Ron grinned, Harry noticed, at the same time he felt his own mouth curve into a smile.

"It's gonna be a blast, isn't it?" Harry admitted aloud.

"You better believe it is."

"Don't you think it's weird, though? How different she's acting? I mean, not only did she tell us that we could get laid without bothering her, she talked to us about sex."

"Hermione, you mean? Like a regular teenager, I know." Ron opened his mouth to continue, but paused a moment. "You're right, about her acting different the past couple days. Especially toward you."

"Toward me?"

Ron barely noticed the surprise in his friend's voice as he lifted his shoulders in a quick, casual shrug. "She's treating you like a normal friend again."

"As opposed to?"

"You know, a crush."

Harry's jaw dropped for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "A crush. Ron, where did you get such a stupid idea?"

"Ginny. You know how Hermione talks to her, tells her everything." Ron's eyes spun from watching the busy street to stare at Harry. "You knew, didn't you?"

Mute, Harry could only shake his head slowly.

"God. Don't tell her I told you, all right? That's all I need, Hermione coming after me."

A nod.

"Thanks, mate. So really, you didn't know? You couldn't tell? Honestly, I couldn't either. Ginny said something to me about it. Apparently Hermione's even been really obvious about it, too, but no one noticed because everyone thinks of her as a bookworm."

"I bet that pisses her off," Harry remarked, still in shock. Ron's eyebrows rose just the faintest amount at the slight hoarseness in his friend's voice.

"Yeah, I think that's what her hissy fit was the other day." Ron shrugged his shoulders. "It makes sense. We all know you can't tell Lavender anything you wouldn't want published in _Witches' Weekly_. And she bought that story about the new Potions professor—hook, line, and sinker."

"So did we," Harry muttered.

"Well, we heard it from Lavender. Remember the way she described it? Like she was sitting in the room with Hermione the whole time. And Hermione was smart enough to make her story sound reasonable, something she might do." Suddenly, Ron stopped. Harry looked at him in confusion, unaware that they were once more before Lupin's house. "So do you like her, Harry? I mean, that's the important thing."

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I've never thought of her that way."

Ron grinned. "That's what I thought. Well, it doesn't matter now, since she's moved on." He grabbed the doorknob, balanced himself, then yanked hard enough to open the door without knocking himself over.

The boys entered. And gasped.

The floors. The walls. Tables. The knickknacks on the tables.

All clean. Somehow, Hermione had cleaned the entire house while the boys had been on their two-hour shopping spree.

"Hermione?" Ron bellowed into the depths of the building. She walked out of his room, dressed in an old t-shirt Harry had given her, the sleeves rolled up to just above her elbows, and sweatpants Ron had been more than happy to donate to her. Her hair struggled to be free of the two French braids flowing down her back, and her face was coated with streaks of grime. Neither Harry or Ron had ever seen her look sexier.

There was something different about her, something cleaning had brought out. She was taller, slimmer, undoubtedly to the lack of books weighing her down. Even her posture was relaxed and easy-going.

"Did you need something?" she interrupted their study. "Or are you just fond of randomly shouting my name?"

"What happened to the house?" Harry really couldn't help the tension in his voice.

"I burned it to the ground. What does it look like?" Hermione refused, absolutely refused, to blush under their scrutiny. "Ron, your old sheets are drying, but the ones on your bed should do. Harry, your bed is done."

Ron groaned, "I was hoping my sheets would, I don't know, magically become clean."

She clarified. "There are clean sheets on your bed, Ron; the ones drying were the ones that were on your bed. I've washed everything in this house. Dishes. Sheets. Silverware. Walls. Everything." She twitched in mock horror.

"You've been busy," Ron murmured. His wide eyes showed off his daze. "Thank you." Harry nodded his thanks as well.

"So what's for dinner?" she asked, trying to brush some of the grime from her face and only transferring more from her hands. Harry and Ron grinned, looked quickly at each other, and pulled Hermione into the now-clean kitchen. Ron deposited the girl into a chair while Harry wet a paper towel, knelt in front of Hermione, and gently began to clean her face for her. She submitted to their attentions for a few short minutes before drawing back from Harry's hand. "All right, what is it?"

"We were thinking," Ron's voice was apprehensive, "that instead of just staying in on our first night, unchaperoned, in London, we'd go clubbing."

Harry took over. "We know it's not your thing, but I swear it'll be fun."

The brunette looked at each of their pleading faces. Ron's teeth had captured his bottom lip, gnawing unknowingly. She sighed. "You go. I'm really tired, but maybe I'll go with you some other night."

They broke into grins again.

"Thanks, Hermione. We're just going to grab showers and head out, all right? Don't stay up."

Each planted a kiss on her cheek and dashed through the kitchen door to get ready for their first big night-on-the-town. Hermione rolled her eyes as she picked up the towel that had been unceremoniously dumped on the table beside her. She took her time carefully rubbing off the dust and dirt from her arms before starting on her neck and face. The boys were true to their word, finishing their showers and getting ready in less than a half-hour.

"Are you sure you don't want to go, 'Moine?" Ron repeated before they left. She reassured them that she was exhausted, couldn't take it really, maybe another time after she'd caught up on her sleep, but really, have fun anyway. Both kissed her cheeks once more and left the room. She giggled quietly again, getting up with every intention of putting up the groceries the boys had forgotten in their excitement. She stood in the hallway, about to fill her hands with the first two bags, when she heard Ron's voice come through the cracked open door.

"…really feel bad about leaving her, even if she did come to baby-sit us."

"Hermione wouldn't be comfortable in a club," Harry replied. "She's not that kind of girl, the kind who parties without freaking out about possible consequences. The kind who parties. She's the stay-at-home type, and we both know it."

Ron chuckled, and Hermione found herself pressing an ear to the door in an attempt to eavesdrop on their conversation as they made their way to the street. " Well, she's more the mothering type, in my opinion. Good thing she got over you, huh? I just can't imagine you with a girl like Hermio…"

Their voices faded as Hermione attempted to retrieve her own dropped jaw. _They knew? Those assholes knew I was half in love with Harry, and they just let me suffer? How dare they judge me! They don't even know me! _Ignoring the tiny voice that whispered that particular detail was her fault, she continued on her silent tirade. _Who are they to judge me? Ron couldn't fend for himself in a full service gas station, and Harry? After all his solemn oaths and promises, did he even have the courage to face Voldermort? No. If it wasn't for Neville—_ She cut off her thoughts with a scream of frustration. Staring at her violently shaking hands, Hermione came to a decision. There was only one person who could calm her down when she was like this.

She stalked to her bags, yanking her cell phone from her purse with unnecessary force. She hit the first speed-dial setting, waited for an answer from the other end.

"Babe? It's me. Yeah, yeah, I'm back for holidays. Listen, are you free tonight?"

Yeah, I know, I know, it's been forever since I updated. But I've finally fixed part of my plot, and have most of a chapter way down the road written, so there should be less of that whole "writer's block" thing. Chapter 3 is almost done, so see you soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Shades of Grey  
**By Destiny's Darkness

--------

Disclaimer: I have, like, a dollar and fifty cents to my name in addition to the fact that I'm soon to be heading off to college to put myself heavily in debt. So suing me would not only be laughable (cuz I own _nothing_), but pretty pointless.

**----------**

**Chapter Three**

**----------**

Harry managed three steps into the club before he couldn't hold back his grin any longer. They'd gotten in. And not only had they gotten in, they'd done so before the stunning twenty-something with jet black hair, bright green eyes, and a heart-stopping body poured into a ridiculous excuse for a dress that halted just south of the border. Harry felt a weight lift from his shoulders just stepping away from her.

Looking around he knew this night would be worth every long second of the longer forty-five minutes they'd spent in line outside the club, jealous of the people who got right in and sorry for those told just to go home. The music was fast and loud, the ladies were good-looking and friendly, and there was no one to remind them to behave. The grin widened. Not that he or Ron was planning on misbehaving, mind you, but he wouldn't deny the thrill of knowing he could.

"I'm thirsty," Ron hollered over the insanity surrounding them. "You want to get a drink?"

Harry answered with a shrug. They fought their way through the crowd to the bar, where Ron picked a stool in front of the only female bartender. As Harry dropped next to the red-head, she greeted them with a warm, if slightly impersonal, smile.

"What can I get you?"

"Anything nonalcoholic." Ron shot a horrified look at Harry. "You don't want to come home drunk to Hermione on the first night," the green-eyed boy reminded him.

The blonde behind the bar gave them a look Harry couldn't quite decipher, as she asked, "You just moved in with your girlfriend and you're out clubbing?" Ah, that was it.

Ron nearly knocked himself off of his seat with the force of his denial. "She's just a friend," he insisted. "We're all staying together over break , and she wasn't up to coming with us. She can be a real prude, you know?" He paused, surprised at the frost in her hazel eyes.

Harry looked her over quickly, double-checking that this bartender wasn't someone they should know. He tried to imagine her with longer hair, maybe a different color, in case the carefree, blonde pixie cut was a new change. She filled out the tight black tank top and jeans of her uniform too well for him not to have noticed her at school. And as she reached to hand a clean towel to the man behind her, he realized the black band around her arm was actually a tattoo, a definite no-no on campus. Harry hesitated a moment longer, then gave up. If she knew them, he didn't know from where.

"What he means," Harry slipped in smoothly, "is that while we love Hermione like the closest of sisters, she's a nun."

The change that came over her shocked the both of them. From ice-queen disdain, her laugh morphed her into a mischievous prankster. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "That wasn't the description I was expecting." She waved off their confusion, then leaned forward on the bar. "I'm Kylie."

"Ron. And this is Harry."

"So, what would you like?"

"I'll take a water," Harry answered, giving up on trying to figure this stranger out.

"Coke, please."

She passed them their drinks, quickly and efficiently. "Do you mind if I ask you about that scar? It's really unusual."

Harry smiled in resignation. "I'm doomed to a lifetime of being a freak."

"If it bothers you," she interrupted quickly, "you don't have to tell me."

"No, don't worry about it. It's just a really boring story." She motioned for him to continue. "My parents died in an accident when I was a baby. Mom gave her life to save mine though, so I got this scar instead of an early death."

Those red, red lips frowned. "That's so sad."

Harry shrugged. "Not the story people expect."

"I know I didn't"

"And what did you expect?"

"To hear that you're really the famous Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, who brought down Lord Voldermort when he was just a baby and had a hand in doing it again last spring." She had a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she saw their identical shocked expressions. "Oh, that's priceless."

"Are you a witch?" Ron asked.

She shook her head. "My roommate is. She keeps me updated."

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times. "I—I don't know what to say."

She winked at him. "I'll be back in a minute, but Dave's really getting swamped. I've got to help him out."

Harry waited for her to get out of hearing range before turning to Ron. "Isn't that illegal?"

Ron stared at him for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

"Telling a Muggle about the Wizarding World. Isn't that illegal?"

"Not actually. They frown upon it, definitely. But if they outlawed it, they'd be outlawing wizard-muggle relationships. And what about first-generation witches like Hermione? She wouldn't be allowed to tell her parents where they're sending her each year." He shrugged, turned back to his Coke. "What's illegal is using magic in such a was that would reveal us to the Muggle world. Like flying on an enchanted car over London."

The man on Ron's left eyed him suspiciously.

"Internet community," Harry told him quickly. "It called 'The Wizarding World'. You should definitely check it out. The man's nod hinted he thought Harry and Ron might have escaped from the nearest sanitarium. As he took his glass and disappeared into the crowd, Ron turned to Harry. "What was that nonsense?"

"It's a real site. Brilliant actually. They've set it up like a role-playing community, but it's all real wizards and witches from all over. They keep news posted, so people can stay caught up. And they've got chat rooms and stuff…" His voice trailed off at Ron's glazed expression. "You do know what the internet is, right?"

No answer.

"All right, I'll explain it to you later. It's too complicated to talk about without showing you. May be tomorrow we can run over to the public library and see if we can use one of their computers." Even the thought of explaining the internet to Ron was terrifying. "Actually, Hermione probably understands it better than I do. She'll do a better job of explained it."

"Still here?"

Kylie's voice scared them both. She grinned as she began restocking her station. "Typically folks have taken off by now."

"We haven't paid for out drinks yet."

"All the more reason." She popped a cherry in her mouth. "Tell you what. Since you waited for me, drinks are on the house."

Harry shook his head. "We should pay you," he insisted.

"We make our money off alcohol sales anyway. Just forget it."

"Thanks."

She tilted her head to one side to look Harry up and down. "Do they not teach you the meaning of "forget it" at wizard school?"

Both boys chuckled.

"Well, they're hardly sex gods, but they're not bad-looking."

Dark brown eyes met violently green ones. "Oh, please. You're just desperate."

"Me? Desperate?"

"You. Desperate."

Green-Eyes laughed, a silky, sensual sound. "Belle, honey, you know me better than that. When have I ever not had a man the very instant I wanted one?" Belle's lips grimaced, and Green-Eyes twisted a finger around long, pale blonde hair coyly. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What was your answer?"

"Kiss my ass, Dani."

"No, that wasn't it. Come on, say it. 'Danielle always has a man.' Come on, you know it's true."

Belle couldn't stop the laugh. "Danielle always has a man and therefore cannot be desperate." The smile settled on her face as she leaned back, flipping waist-length brown curls over her shoulder. "So stick to the men and leave the freaks alone."

"Ah, Belle, that's not nice."

"Since when have I every been nice? Besides, I'd come looking sluttier if I wanted to get hit on by pre-pubescent boys."

Dani cocked an eyebrow at her best friend, one of the few who could pull off that statement convincingly when dressed as Belle was dressed. "Belle, darling?"

"Don't say it, Dani. Just don't."

"Say what? I was just going to point out that you're dressed in a black wife-beater, a green miniskirt, your black hooker heels, and lots of make-up. When you add in the fact that you have enough jewelry to tempt a monk to steal _and_ you're letting your tattoo show…"

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"That's why we love you, that's all."

Belle felt the need for a change in the conversation. "Let's dance."

"Uh, let's not. We just sat down from that whole dancing thing. How about a drink instead?" Dani pouted at the brunette's disinterest. "Please? I'm really thirsty."

"Fine, but you're buying."

Dani grinned. "We'll see. Alcoholic or non?"

"Non, please. Just a Coke."

The girl acknowledged the order with a nod before slipping out of the booth. She sashayed her way through the crowds, dodging the would-be admirers and occasional ex's.

"Kylie, darling, two Cokes, if you please," Danielle called out as she slipped onto the stool next to the redhead she'd been joking about earlier, doing her very best to ignore his love-struck expression.

Kylie grinned, turning to grab clean glasses. "Not a problem. On your tab?"

"I have a tab?"

She knew the drill. "So. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Belle's pretty pissed off about something, but I haven't gotten her to spill yet." The blonde took a sip of her Coke before continuing. "I heard Mya's back in town for break. How is she?"

The redhead behind the bar tried to suppress her grimace. "Not good. She's staying somewhere else right now, sounds pretty upset about it. She can't move back until summer now. She called me a couple of hours ago, wanting to hang out, but I don't get off until three tonight."

All concern for their mutual friend, Danielle reached for one of Kylie's hands. "Oh, no. Did that jerk break her heart again?"

"Break's a relative term. Sounds like he shattered it this time."

Long blonde hair flipped over her shoulders as she shook her head in disgust. "That boy's gonna get what's coming to him. She's gonna get over him finally, and then he's meat."

"I hear you, honey, but he's got her hooked pretty good. No," Kylie added quickly, recognizing the glint in the blonde's green eyes, "that is _not_ a challenge. I don't think finding her a new man is going to help this time."

"When you're right, you're right…" Dani sighed. "Does she have her phone on? Belle and I'll invite ourselves over for a sob-fest. Maybe it'll get Belle to open up, too."

"Sounds like a plan. Do you want me to call when I leave here? See if there'd be a point to me coming over?"

"She's your roommate—I'm sure she wants to see you no matter what." Kylie grabbed the drinks and began to walk off, turning to add, "I mean it, she's gonna be disappointed if you don't show."

The two silent teenagers watched as Danielle disappeared, hair swaying with the movement of her body. Once she vanished into the masses of people surrounding the entrance to the VIP room, Ron pivoted toward the waiting bartender. "So?"

"So," she replied, in a conversational tone.

"So tell us about her?"

"About Danielle? Why would I tell you about Danielle?"

"Because, one, we're hormonal teenage males; two, I'll have to ask her if you won't tell me; and three, you're going to have to clean us up off the floor after she single-handedly removes our kidneys for approaching her most sexiness," Harry offered smoothly.

The corners of Kylie's mouth quivered for a moment before she burst into hysteria. "Man, that's sad. Most guys have to at least catch a whiff of her perfume before falling completely head over heals for her. What do you want to know about the lovely Danielle?"

"How about…everything?"

"Well, everything's a pretty big request…and kind of stalker-like. Ah, try this. The first time she snuck into this club, she was thirteen." Giggling at their surprise, the bartender leaned closer. "She and a couple of friends roped some older, twenty-something guys into standing with them in line, and since the minimum age limit was only fifteen, they only had to act two years older. Actually the bouncers never even checked for ID. The girls started going about how, like, 'Mom wouldn't let me have the car'—cars they didn't have, by the way—and how they'd been completely freaking out about college admissions and all. The bouncers honestly thought they were a bunch of really short eighteen-years-old."

"Really?"

"Really, and that's not the best part. See, Belle, Dani's best of best friend, her brother worked here then. Got me this job actually. Anyway, so he sees them dancing and gets his manager, Peter, to storm over with him, every intention of totally kicking them out." She paused to pour a few shots for another customer, and while she waited for the meticulously counted out money, she waved goodbye to Danielle and her friend as they made their way through the dancers and party-ers to the exit. "Thanks. So Jackson and Peter stomp over and in ten minutes, the girls have Peter declaring they're his favorite woman in the history of the gender. The bouncers were told to let us in immediately, without waiting in line or a cover charge. Gave us free reign as well. We have full access to the VIP room and only pay for drinks when we want to. All because Danielle and Belle charmed the pants off of Peter. Not in that sense," she added quickly, misinterpreting Ron's glance at Harry, "I just meant that he was massively enchanted by them."

"So those two go you all in," Harry mused.

"Uh-huh. 'You and the best of your friends', he told us. Well, them."

"Are we to believe that you didn't join your friends and try and sneak in?"

"Like hell. I was grounded, and my mother knew better than to trust me just to stay in my room. So I got dragged to my aunt's house. Too far away from everyone else to bother trying to sneak out, you see. But Mya and I came up with the idea." Her face fell at the mention of her roommate. Kylie glance quickly up at the clock by the DJ and couldn't disguise the guilt at seeing two hours still remained on her shift.

"Do you want us to help?"

Her eyes darkened. "No, no thank you. I'm not feeling well."

Ron missed the conversation shift. "What?"

"I'm going home. Have a nice night. Ron. Harry." She nodded to each before composing her face to look convincingly sick. They watched as she walked out of behind the bar and up to a suited, older man on the phone. Sympathy crossed his face and he patted her shoulder, obviously telling her to take the rest of the night off. She smiled again at them as she walked by, and then she was gone.

"I feel bad."

"You too?"

"Ron, I meant I felt bad about that girl. Mya. What kind of guy does that to a girl?"

"An asshole?"

Harry checked his best friend's face to be sure he wasn't joking. Luckily, the redhead seemed serious. "Let's go home. It's late, almost one in the morning."

The pair walked home in near-silence, dwelling on their first night of freedom. "It can't got worse, right? This vacation?"

Harry laughed as he answered. "It was a pretty good day, Ron. Hermione cleaned the entire house for us. She let us go clubbing. We made friends with an attractive blonde, who happens to be a bartender. We met some of the sexiest people in London." He stared at Lupin's house, at the light pouring out of Hermione's window. "She waited up for us. I wish she would have gone with us."

"I don't think she would have enjoyed it, Harry."

"But you never know."

Ron's pointed look almost amused the Boy-Who-Lived. "With Hermione, you know."

They opened the door quietly in case Hermione had fallen asleep waiting for them. Instead they heard loud music, and muffled voices, streaming out from behind her bedroom door.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, rapping gently on the door. When there was no answer, he turned the knob and entered.

"Harry, move," Ron whined from behind him. "Harry. Harry?"

The violent shove moved him stumbling into the center of the room and the center of attention. Green eyes stared into green eyes.

"Bloody Hell!" Harry winced at Ron's coarse words. "You were at the club!"

Danielle's friend smirked. "And they say the penis doesn't have long-term memory."

"What?"

Long brown curls flipped over a bare, perfect shoulder. "Men don't think with the upper brain when they're around Danielle. No offense intended, Dani."

The girl laughed. "Take offense at a compliment? Belle darling, that's your level of bitch. Besides, how can you breathe with all that room you have to talk?"

"Oh, that's right." She paused momentarily. "My apologies." Together, they returned to pulling clothes out of Hermione's trunk. Danielle held up a lacy little underthing that made Ron's ears turn a vivid red as she raised an eyebrow. Bell sighed. "You think you know someone," she deadpanned, while the blonde tossed it into a half-filled duffel bag.

Harry found he was suddenly capable of coherent thought. "Why…what are you…are you robbing us?" Apparently coherent speech was still a reach.

Dark brown eyes rolled. "Yes, we're robbing you. And we decided to bypass the expensive stuff and go straight for the racy underwear."

"Have you been to Victoria's Secret lately?" Danielle asked. "You could buy cars for what they're charging in there these days."

"Good point. I guess we're smarter burglars than I originally thought."

"What are you doing here?" Ron demanded.

"Chill." Belle delivered the command in less than civil tones. "We're just grabbing some clothes for Mya. She's staying with us tonight."

"I think we've got everything we need," Dani interrupted. "Ready to go?"

"Yep. Thanks for everything," she told the boys. "Have a nice night."

They watched, dumb-founded, as the two goddesses waltzed out the front door.

"Maybe I'm just tired," Harry decided slowly, "but that explanation made absolutely no sense to me."

"Mya…it's a nickname." When Harry looked just as confused, Ron continued in a shaken voice. "Hermione. Harry! Her-MYA-nee. Mya is Hermione."

The noise that escaped Harry's gaping mouth wasn't human. "Oh, God. Damn it. Oh, God, do you know what that makes me?"

Ron nodded. "The insensitive bastard."

----------

Author's Note: I know, I know. I'm so sorry. You know that comment I made in my last update about how I'd fixed my problem with my (lack of) plot and how I should have it out quickly? Well, apparently said plot overheard me. And ran away. Sending a plot friend of his that got itself stuck in my head. Running laps.

All that to say that I couldn't get this chapter to work with me and that I found myself (instead of FIXING my problems with this story) working on a **completely** different story. Actually, I'm fairly proud of "Isle Academy"—I think that's what I'm going to call it. But I have part of a later chapter for **this** story already written that I really, really, really like and therefore must use.

So, thanks for reading my story. If there is anyone reading it. And thank you to you beautiful people who reviewed. Hint: if you review, I know that this isn't disappearing into the abyss known as the internet and that there are (hopefully!) people who want to read it, thus providing incentive for me to continue. I don't mind flames—they can only make me better. But I've discovered that I like reviews much better. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Tell me what you think. Till later!

PS. Apparently this is later. Sorry. But just really quickly, does anyone know anything about this story called "Il Ballo di Serpentio" (possibly misspelled—Dance of the Serpent)? I really loved it but can't find it know. If you know the author, or better yet **are **the author (how cool would that be!), please get it back at Fanfiction. Or send it to me.

Thanks again and much love!

Destiny's Darkness  
4/7/2005


	4. Chapter 4

**Shades of Grey **

**By: Destiny's Darkness**

Disclaimer: I own little. Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and the contents of J.K. Rowling's books are not on that list. The original characters, obviously, are, but if you want to use them for some reason, be my guest. Just let me know, so I can read your stories.

**Chapter 4 **

"You lied to them."

"I did not."

"You lied to them."

Belle spun around to face her best friend in all the world. "Dani, I told them we were picking up clothes for Mya, who's staying with us tonight. I didn't lie to them." She stared into the solemn green eyes.

Danielle broke eye contact first, dropping her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why didn't they recognize you, Hermione?" Her voice was quiet, quiet enough that Hermione could have pretended not to hear it, and with anyone else she might have. But not Danielle.

"I've told you about the Anti-Muggle spells."

"The psycho spells from hell that play havoc with your looks." The blonde frowned, allowing the flesh of her brow to wrinkle. "Do they alter your appearance that much? That you best friends won't recognize you?"

"And my voice. I usually sound more like this." She pitched the sound of it to high and nasal, so unlike her usual rich, musical tones. Winced. "Maybe not quite that bad." She crossed the room to the floor length mirror on the back of Dani's bedroom door. "My hair's frizzy. Hell, it's got to be at least four feet wide, which takes a foot of the length." She stared at the chocolate-colored curls, winding their way nearly to her waist in nearly perfect, loose ringlets. "My eyes fade into this horrid, dull brown color." They stared back at her, dark brown orbs with flecks of gold. She spun around again. "I bloat nearly three inches and bloat so I look nearly twenty pounds heavier. My skin clouds up with various shades of red and yellow." She stared at the perfect tan of her hands as her last words, voiced in a shout, echoed through the apartment. "I'm ugly."

The broken words nearly shattered Danielle's heart. "Not you, Hermione. Our Belle. You could never be ugly. After all, how did you get your nickname?"

"I had a crush on the Beast from the Disney movie when I was, like, six. Which makes it totally unfair that I get teased about that because I really had a crush on him at the end after he turned into the prince."

"Right. Actually, I forgot about that. What I meant was, why did everyone start calling you that in general? Other than the obvious, keeping-out-of-the-limelight thing."

"You mean that troll I dated in fourth or fifth grade?"

"He was hardly a troll. If you weren't so damn nice, at least then, every girl in our class would have hated you. And some did anyway. He was the class prince."

"I'll take the prince from the movie, thanks. Besides, he wasn't that cute."

"Oh, yes, yes, he was. Don't shake your head at me. Didn't he become a model a few years ago?"

"I wouldn't know. I spend most of my life in a castle in Scotland, remember?"

Danielle's cell interrupted the quasi-argument. "Listen, I'm really sorry, you guys, but I can't come."

The blonde winced, knowing full and well what Hermione's response would be. "Mya, what do you mean by you can't come? We're about to leave for your place. And Kylie's on her way. She left work early."

The voice on the other end of the line wavered nervously. "Oh, I'm really sorry-"

"So you said."

"Listen, Jeremy surprised me with this whole, elaborate movie night, to make up for… I mean, he surprised me."

"At two o'clock in the morning?"

"Umm… yeah, he couldn't…um…find the movie he wanted."

"Give me the phone."

Dani glanced at her friend nervously, unwilling to watch that volatile temper explode. After all, she would be the one cleaning up the resulting disaster area. "I don't know, Belle. Can you be nice?"

"I'm always nice." Brown eyes narrowed at the unintentional snort. "What's that, dear? Did you have something to say to me? Like, 'oh, of course, Belle, here's the phone. Please make her cry and beg forgiveness for the way she's been living her life'?"

"Belle's not allowed to talk to you for a while," Dani warned the other end, deliberately turning her back on the irritated brunette. "Oh, quit stammering. If you expected her to handle your cowardice with a mothering nature, you deserve to have her chew you out." Dani didn't have to stand in front of Mya to know the other blonde was chewing her fingernails and pulling at the ends of her hair. "Mya, I really don't like the idea of letting you stay there tonight when every time we call, you're in hysterics. Are you sure you don't want us to come and get you?"

The pause failed to reassure her.

"Mya, if you don't convince me in about three seconds, you won't have a choice in the matter. You'll be staying here tonight. Do you understand me?"

"Thanks, Dani, but I'm fine. We're just going to watch this one movie, and then I'll head to bed. I promise I'm okay. It's just that time of month, you know? It makes me really emotionally unstable."

"Compared to when?"

"I'll tell you what. We'll have lunch tomorrow. How about Juno's Grill? Noon? Great. Oh, they're starting the movie—I've got to go. See you tomorrow."

"They? Who's they?" At the dial tone, Dani turned back to Belle with an unusually unreadable expression. "She's gonna stay there tonight. But we're having lunch with her tomorrow. Noon at Juno's."

Just as she knew it would, Belle's fury dissipated like rain before the sun at the mention of their favorite little hole-in-the-wall. "Yum. I've missed Juno's. Hogwarts has excellent food, but no variety. I'd sell my soul for some decent sushi."

"Well, you'll have to do with excellent Italian." The two began to wander back to the living room. "But if you're desperate to part with something, that Gucci miniskirt caught my eye."

"Have you been going through my closet again?" Hermione darted into her room to check. "I'll have you know that was going to be one of your Christmas presents, but since you're so bloody nosy, I think it'll look better on me."

"Oh, come on. That cannot be your reasoning behind gift-giving. You look better in everything."

"Don't I just? Actually, you should know, you wear stripes like they were made for you. Especially black and white. It makes me so jealous sometimes; I just can't achieve that "jailhouse meets Rocky Horror Show" look."

"Ha. Ha. Oh, man, noon's like ten hours away. We have got to get some sleep if we're going to convince her to leave that asshole. Without just dragging her butt off to Siberia, that is."

The next day, Hermione found herself calming Dani down. "Chill out. I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason she didn't show."

"Yeah, right. That little snot-nosed brat really doesn't realize how dead she is, does she?"

Hermione made a quick face. "Isn't it just a shame when that happens? I mean, it's not bad enough that these poor people have died. They have to wander around for a few days before someone bothers to fill them in."

If there had been any justice in the universe, Dani's glare would have turned the snickering brunette into a smoldering crater of witch. Instead, Hermione patted her head as a mother to a spoiled child.

"Now, now, dear. That's not nice-"

"You're one to talk." Dani dropped to the bench with enough force to break a lesser seat. "Belle, this just doesn't feel right. Was Mya ever clutsy before she started dating what's-his-face?"

"Yeah," she answered immediately. "The girl makes me look like a freaking ballerina."

"But she was never covered in cuts and bruises." With that single statement, Dani eliminated any trace of amusement from the conversation.

"You think he's abusing her."

"I think it's unnatural for a pretty girl like that to suddenly start having to cover herself in bandages so her various cuts don't become infected, just after she begins dating a new boyfriend."

"Goddamn it." Hermione began to pace furiously. "Have you considered the possibility of her cutting herself?"

"Briefly. But too many things don't add up for her to be cutting herself. Like, she's so exact with her handiwork in the kitchen, but the cuts are crude." Dani looked up from the cement to see Belle slamming the driver's side door to Dani's prized Mustang. "Oh, no. Get out of my car. You are not driving my baby. I still remember what you did to your last car."

"That was not my fault, and you know it. That old man pulled out right in front of me. I couldn't have avoided him in any way possible."

"Unless you'd only been driving ten miles over the speed limit instead of twenty-five. Honestly, you're such a thrill-seeker. Get out." Glaring at the refusing brunette, Dani yanked impatiently at the driver's door. "We can hunt down Mya and her piece-of-shit boyfriend, but you're _not_ driving."

No response.

"Damn it, Belle, move. You have ten seconds to haul your ass out of my seat."

"Shhh." The chocolate eyes widened in nervousness. "Shh, you'll catch their attention."

"Who?" Glancing over the crowds, she failed to notice anyone in particular to watch out for.

"Them, that's who." She pointed to the two boys from the night before. "I don't need to deal with that, okay? Let's just go."

Dani waited until both of them were settled in their seats before speaking again. "Belle, aren't they your best friends? I'm not sure I understand why you're running away from them."

"I'm not running away from them!" Hermione hissed, irritated. "If I were, my feet would be carrying me away from here. I just don't want to deal with answering their questions just yet. Let them wallow in their guilt."

"Misplaced guilt."

"Your point?" Hermione slipped lower in her seat to avoid any stray glances as they passed Harry and Ron. The two turned toward the Mustang, sensing innately they should follow it, but luckily, common sense stopped them in their tracks. "How do you think they found us?"

"Kylie, maybe. She got pretty friendly with them last night. Even told them she was Mya's roommate." Choosing to focus on the road before them, Dani allowed the silence to take root.

"She told them about Mya?"

The blue eyes glanced briefly at the girl beside her before answering. "Yeah, well, the child never could hold her tongue. Do you think they remember Mya?"

"I'm not sure they ever met her. Our relationship had taken a few blows during the Triwizard Tournament, so when I was spending all my time in the library, they were fighting in other places." Dani didn't miss the trace of irony in Hermione's voice. "Then, they really weren't happy that I was dating Victor, well, Ron in particular. Meeting his fan club didn't hold much appeal, I guess."

"I can't believe Mya stalked him."

"Why not? You've met her, haven't you?" Hermione's smirk hardly held well wishes. "She's very much the clingy sort. We all know what happens when she doesn't have some man to cling to."

"Speaking of which…" Dani paused a moment to consider her next words. "When was the last time you got laid? Or even snogged some random guy in the janitor's closet?" At the grimace on Hermione's face, she felt confident in her perception. "I thought so. You're always going on about how everyone at your school has the emotional maturity of prepubescent boys, but you know how you get when you choose abstinence. Don't give me that look! You become a tight-ass, and you know it. Everyone does. Honey, do us all a favor, and find some man tonight. Unless you're saving yourself for that Potter kid."

She'd chosen the perfect motive. "A nun gets more action then a girl waiting on Potter," the brunette snapped. "Now, if we could kindly analyze my sex life after we eliminate this Jeremy jerk?"

Author's notes: I'm so, so, so, **so** sorry. Between my AP classes and tests, and just graduating, I've barely had the extra mental capacity to edit my last chapter. So I didn't. I hope no one thinks it's truly crap, cuz that's the way it's staying for know. In addition to not having the brain power to write this chapter, I wasn't sure how I wanted it to play out. I mean, I knew some of the basic events that **had** to be in this chapter, but writing (as you all know) is different then just making stuff up.

I hope this chapter didn't disappoint anyone. Where you surprised? Please let me know; I tried to avoid becoming one of those writers who honestly thinks they're going to surprise you with the painfully predictable identity of some "secret" character. I know this part seems pointless, but I'm trying to make this kind of a character study. You know, where you really get to know Hermione, AKA Belle. Please review, and tell me what you think. Such as, who (if anyone) should Hermione couple up with? Draco (making an appearance in the next chapter, I promise), Harry, Ron (not likely—sorry, folks, just not my fave ship), new character?

I do have some other major developments to unveil, so review quickly. My parents got me a laptop for graduation, so things should roll out faster. Hopefully.

Thanks for reading, and lots of love,

Destiny's Darkness

6/2/05


	5. Chapter 5

**Shades of Grey**  
By: Destiny's Darkness 

**Disclaimer**: Much to my disappointment, none of my presents this year were the ownership rights to Harry Potter. I know, you all are just as disappointed as I am. Oh, well, there's always a possibility that I'll survive.

**Author's Note**: I do want to apologize to everyone for taking so long in updating. I had some real trouble working in most of my basic ideas for this chapter, none of which could fit somewhere else. Once I got everything in order and started writing, however, one of my good friends passed away, the day before her twentieth birthday. She looked after me when she was in high school and lived just down the street, so when she died so unexpectedly, it really messed me up for a little while. Soo…. 

This chapter is dedicated with love to the memory of Rachael Outland, who to my knowledge never read any fanfiction, but who supported me in everything I ever attempted, including that stupid horizontal toss.

(There's an important author's note at the end, by the way, with another apology.)

**Chapter 5**

Six o'clock in the morning. The time when most people, after a restful night's sleep, rise and begin preparing for a productive day at the office. Six o'clock in the morning. The time when the famous Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, woke from the forty-five minute snooze serving as all of his rest in the past two, sleepless nights. He flipped back onto his stomach, ignoring the fact he'd already twisted the once-clean sheets into irritating knots. It didn't help that after that first of shock and irritation, Hermione—no, Mya—decided to stay away from Lupin's house all day. Or maybe her friends kept her away from him, away from the heart-breaking bastard. He rolled to his side, cradling his head on his arm. Not that it mattered why she didn't come back; all that mattered was Hermione had disappeared with only the story provided by the two "robbers" from the club. And adding to his troubles, they'd found a message from Lupin, reminding them he planned on dropping by tomorrow afternoon for a quick visit. Bloody hell, this afternoon.

Despite moping around the house the entire day before and two restless nights dwelling on the concept, Harry still couldn't grasp the idea of people he didn't know surely hating him for breaking his best friend's heart, however unknowingly. And apparently some number of times. Was he really so completely oblivious that he failed to notice when his actions hurt Hermione?

He deepened his frown, twisting and jerking his torso until his feet hung from the side of the bed. Despite searching the deepest bowels of his memory, the black-haired boy couldn't recall any actions that explained what Kylie and Dani meant by breaking her heart "again".

Maybe when he refused to listen to her back in fifth year. Hermione told him to go to Dumbledore about those horrible visions, but he had felt abandoned and surly. He shook his head. Hermione wouldn't have taken that personally, would she? She understood so much of what he was going through. Or maybe in third year, when she and Ron were fighting, and he failed in comforting her, mostly for lack of trying. Had she…did she have feelings for him that long ago? Sighing, he flipped to look over the edge of his bed at the floor.

Or…did he betray her during that last battle with Voldermort? She'd consoled _him_ about what had happened, but her feelings had certainly been bruised by it. After all, he'd watched Voldermort throw curse after curse at his unconscious best friend, until her brown hair crackled with her caked blood, but froze when his opportunity arose and Voldermort turned his back. His moral code, the same morals which kept him from accepting any of Voldermort's "generous" offers, also kept him from casting that final blow when the Dark Lord had his back to him. One curse, that's all it would have taken to finish him off, and this time he certainly had the hatred to make the spell effective. Voldermort had been walking to drive his sword into Hermione's heart. And Harry had just watched, frozen by the absolute terror he felt for her and the odd refusal to believe this could happen in anything but his nightmares. The wizarding world had Neville to thank for the death of the monster who single-handedly terrorized the lives of men, women, and children for years. While Harry sat quivering on the floor, in pain but relatively unhurt physically, Neville snuck up, barely able to walk with his leg _shattered _a so many points, staying securely out of sight until the very moment when he drove the ordinary, tarnished muggle knive in the base of Voldermort's skull. No denying the irony and poetic justice in that, Harry acknowledged. One of the most powerful wizards in history brought down by a muggle weapon used in a muggle move Dean taught Neville about years before, severing the spinal cord in a place not even magic could fix.

Having lived in the limelight for these past six-and-a-half years, however, Harry instantly understood why Neville refused to take the credit, insisting that Harry pretend to have delivered the killing strike. Neville had actually sworn everyone present to tell his story with Harry as the hero. Which also bothered Harry, since at the bar, Kylie said he "had a hand" in the death of Voldermort, and then refused to clarify when they met her for lunch the next day. Refused to say much of anything of importance, actually. But had Hermione told her? Told her the true story? It could have just been a figure of speech, but something about the way she said it…

The way she said it. Bells began going off in his head. Oh, shit. Hermione, that morning in the library. Oh, bugger it bloody all. What had she said? She'd been oddly quiet, sitting in a near-daze and sneaking glances in his direction. "I love you," that's what she said. And he'd replied with some nonsense about sisters and makeup. Damn it, why did he have to be such a bloody idiot? He'd been feeling guilty again about hust watching her be tortured, and since he couldn't get it off his mind, just assumed she'd been thinking on it as well. She could, after all, always tell exactly what he was currently obsessing over.

His alarm buzzed, both startling him and interrupting his scattered thoughts. He dropped his feet to the floor, jolting as they hit the icy surface of the hardwood, and listened to the swishing of his pants as he made his way to the door. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, he cracked it open to check for Ron's snores. Instead the noise came from the kitchen, doors opening and closing, water running. Ron must be looking for the glasses again. How long until he remembered their proper place between their sink and the refrigerator. But, on the other hand, the guy was up and moving at seven o'clock in the morning. No one would ever believe it.

As Harry made his way to the kitchen, he heard a small crash and its accompanying muttered oath. He expected to see the redhead looming over some broken cup, obviously clueless about what o do to make it go away. At least they'd escaped the horrors of the "internet" explanation; surely "vacuums" couldn't be _that_ hard.

That being the case, the blond parked in front of the refrigerator, calmly surveying its contents while dumping the remaining shards of a small bowl in the garbage, surprised the Boy-Who-Lived. He stood in shock, just staring at the boy (no, "man"—he had to be at least twenty-three years old) who looked somehow familiar with his dirty blond hair and tall build. Had they met before? Not that it mattered. It still didn't explain why he was standing in Lupin's kitchen in nothing but black pajama pants. "Um…hello?"

The stranger spun around. "Bloody hell! I'm sorry…did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, but the damn thing just slipped through my fingers." Absentmindedly, he put his nicked fingertip to his mouth in the age old way of soothing a hurt.

Harry whipped out the wand he'd slipped in his back pocket, despite Moody's continuous warnings, and aimed it at the center of the stranger's chest. "_Exactly_ who are you, and what are you doing here?" he growled.

"Calm down, man. Are you threatening me with a twig?"

Indecisiveness swept through Harry's mind. Damn if he wasn't right, since Harry couldn't do magic outside of school until graduation. Without hesitating, he shoved his wand back into his pocket and grabbed him around the neck, slamming into the fridge door. The blond struggled, but the muscles Harry developed for quidditch kept him in control. "What are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Nick. My name is Nicholas." Despite the hurried outburst of his words, Nick seemed more resigned at the confrontation than nervous. "Listen, just chill out, friend. Your flatmate sent me in to scrounge up some breakfast. Okay?"

Harry's face darkened, his scar becoming more prominent, to match his voice. "And what exactly are you doing in her room at seven o'clock in the morning?"

The question stunned Nick. "Well, I've been a friend of hers for years… and to be perfectly honest, when a girl as beautiful as her beckons, you don't ask questions. You know? Wait, you two aren't … I mean… are you?"

Harry's grip tightened, almost without his knowledge. "She's not like that. Hermione's not that kind of girl."

Nick laughed. "No, no, I'm with your other flatmate." _Ron? _"Belle."

"Who?"

Prying off Harry's constricting hand, Nick settled back onto his heels to answer. "Belle. You know, long brown hair, big brown eyes, and …well, a body to die for," he muttered, eyeing Harry as one might look at a lunatic.

Harry studied him a moment longer before darting out the door. Nick followed, shaking his head at the destructive properties of hangovers on mental processes. Harry paused in front of Hermione's door, debated whether or not to knock, and shoved it open to step inside. He glanced at the messy floor before his gaze traveled to the rumpled sheets of the bed. Long brown hair hung nearly to the carpet, with the attached head hanging off the side of the bed, but other than that, the mountain of comforter concealed the person beneath. Surely it couldn't be…

"Hermione?"

The girl on the bed tossed her hair and burrowed deeper under the covers.

"Hermione?"

"What do you _want_, Harry?" she groaned, flipping onto her back and pushing herself up onto her hands. His jaw dropped, struggling to vocalize words that just weren't there. He could see it in this light, with her hair mussed and shadows under her eyes and most of her makeup rubbed away. Both of the women were there, in her face. The outspoken bookworm he'd grown to adore and treasure. But also the seductive beauty who'd ignored him while raiding his best friend's clothes. How could he have not noticed? How could he have not realized? "Harry. What. Do. You. Want?"

He continued to stand there silently, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words capable of expressing the turmoil within. How could he ask her, let her know that this stranger…hell, he didn't even know what he was thinking. He only knew one thing. "You lied to me."

Then came the awareness that he'd been both dreading and waiting for. It flashed in her eyes first, the slightest widening of the eyelids. Hesitantly, she reached a hand to touch her silky hair and cast a quick glance around the room. And as she met his eyes, head on and directly, she realized he knew. "Get out, Harry."

"You lied to me."

"I don't want to talk about this. Not now. Not ever. Do you understand me?" She winced, seeing how much her words hurt him. "Harry, I… just not right now. Please."

Before he could decide, Nick reappeared, carrying his tray from the kitchen. He'd slipped into his clothes as well, damn him, making Harry increasingly aware of the differences between them. Harry, in his wrinkled boxers and stained t-shirt, hair perpetually messy. And Nick, in perfectly pressed slacks and a white dress shirt, a tie slung around his neck and his blond hair off the cover of the newest fashion magazines. Surely Ron had been wrong; she could have any man, this man, and she would choose him? No, never.

He watched in semi-horror as Nick navigated the bedroom floor and set the tray on the bedside table, sitting next to Hermione. "Um, okay, I know I promised you French toast, but there's no bread in the kitchen." At her seductive pout, he chuckled and put his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. "But I did make you an omelet, some bacon, and a fresh pot of coffee."

"Hmm, coffee." She murmured a hair's breathe away from his lips. "My savior." Harry found himself watching a passionate kiss between this jerk and the woman he wanted. Wanted? He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but he knew now that the only thing he needed in this world was moaning into another man's mouth, battling with another man's tongue, and obviously pleased with another man's performance the night before.

The slamming door jerked Hermione back into reality. Pulling away from Nick, she stared unhappily where Harry stood only a few moments before. "Nick-"

"Yeah, I kind of got that he didn't like me when he threatened me in the kitchen. Is there something between the two of you?"

"No! I mean, um.."

"Thought this day would never come. The day I got the beautiful and articulate Belle at a loss for words." He grinned. "Don't worry about it. I've got to get to work anyway. There's a massive meeting this morning, and I have to sound intelligent." Another kiss, this one chaste on her cheeks, and he stood, grabbing his bag and shoving his clothes they'd tossed around the room inside. "I'll see you later, and Belle? Thanks for calling me."

Her delightful laugh erupted from her throat. "No, thank you. It was fun. As usual."

It only took her a few minutes to slip into her favorite sweatshirt and the black pants he left without. Another three had the room back in some semblance of an order. The next ten she used to gather her courage, courage that always seemed to disappear when she dealt with Harry about personal issues. She found him in the kitchen, nursing a mug of her coffee and brooding by the window. "Morning."

"Did you have sex with him?"

"Why, yes, you're welcome to some of the coffee Nick brewed for me. Thank you so much for asking."

He faced her, his knuckles white on the handle. He realized he'd pissed her off, but was so furious himself that he couldn't find it in him to care. "I asked you a question, Hermione. Did you have sex with him?"

"That's none of your business, Harry."

"I want it to be my business. I want to know what you do. I mean, this." He gestured at her appearance helplessly. "When did this happen? I liked you like you used to be. Why change?" To their mutual horror, his voice broke from the effort of hiding his feelings of betrayal. "I don't understand what's going on."

She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to keep her emotions under control. There was so much she could say, so much of her life he didn't know. But despite all her secrets, she didn't know where to start. "I don't want to go spilling my life story twice."

"Twice?"

"Ron." Even as the name escaped her lips, the boy walked through the door to the kitchen.

"Hey, you guys," he announced, heading straight to the fridge. "Lousy bloody morning, isn't it? The fog's a frickin' terror. Probably a dozen crashes already this morning." With the orange juice in his hand, he turned to talk with them, sipping straight from the carton.

"That really is so nasty," Hermione muttered darkly, thinking of germs, and viruses, and backwash.

Ron replied by spewing the juice all over the once-clean floor. "Bloody hell! You're back! You can't be out of clothes already! How many outfits can Hermione go through in two days?"

"Um, Ron?" Despite his best attempts, the redhead simply couldn't tear his eyes from the newcomer to see what Harry wanted. "Ron, apparently this is Hermione."

Somewhere in Hollywood, a lonely cricket chirped.

"Ron. Ron, did you hear me?"

"I don't understand," he breathed, wide eyes beginning to look alarmingly glazed over.

Harry shrugged. "Neither do I. But now that we're both here, Hermione can go ahead and explain." Ron frowned, catching undertones of rage in the relatively calm words, but focused on the speed at which the girl before him paled. "Well, _Hermione_?"

"Yes, so, um.." She stalled, desperately searching for a way out of the cell she'd erected around herself with half-truths and complete lies. "There's not really a good place to start…"

"That's all right. Why don't you start with your appearance? Why, for example, you changed it."

Taking a deep breath, she collapsed into a chair before beginning, the words spilling from her mouth in a rush. "This is actually how I look for the most part, unless I'm in disguise, which is kind of a moot point since Halloween was almost two months ago and I never get to hang out with my muggle friends anymore." She realized her babbling took both boys by surprise, but just couldn't stop herself. "I mean, hanging out with you all is fun and all, but nobody, absolutely nobody, pulls off Halloween like Kylie and Sarabeth. Anyway, you don't care about Halloween." She paused, attempted to draw oxygen into her lungs, and continued anyway. "See I'm muggleborn, right? And if it's not bad enough that Malfoy and Voldemort and all their little thugs claim I don't belong in their perfect little Wizarding utopia, they've put anti-Muggle spells up just about everywhere you go in the wizarding world. Since I'm technically a muggle with magical powers, the first ever in my bloodline according to all current records in both my family and the shelves at Hogwarts, the stupid spells go all wonky, and rebound back on me. See, if a Muggle were to stumble upon Hogwarts, the spells make the castle look as utterly unattractive to that person as possible, and since in my case I have the necessary magic to look past the charms and they have to do _something_, they make me look, well, unflattering. With a lot of work, I can almost pull off my normal appearance, but that's just way too much effort for everyday, and it's so _bloody_ irritating that every time I do look nice everyone's shocked and walk around me like I'm some sort of curious alien that plopped down on earth to take a few magic lessons."

Harry, focused on understanding her mile-a-minute explanation, had begun to stroke her hand in that delightfully comforting way of his. "So you-"

"It wouldn't be so much trouble if I knew someone else with the problem, you know, someone to whine with, but nooo, I have to be the only one without any magic in their family. Plus, for some reason I don't get stuck with an _illusion_ of hideousness, no, no, that would be to kind for the likes of Malfoy. Instead, the bloody things dry out my skin and hair, screw with my complexion, and make me gain wait. It doesn't matter how nice I look when I leave for Platform 9-and-3/4, as soon as I get near the train station, pop, there's this horrific monster standing where I used to be. And does that little trick work backwards? Of course not! I have to go home, shower, slather myself in moisturizer, and drink a gallon of water before I look even presentable again. Did you know that my parents didn't even recognize me after our first year? They were standing there at the barrier when I walked up, and they asked me if I was lost."

Ron's sharp intake of breath, hissing through his teeth, distracted her. She threw a glare in his direction, knowing perfectly well that his reaction to her 'female' problems was always laughter, but he looked horrified for her.

"Sorry, I've got a bit of tension about this subject."

"I think I got that." She smiled at him, just the ghost of a grin. Ron leaned forward, his tone contemplative. "But Dean's parents are muggles."

"Yes, technically. But with so equal numbers of wizards and Muggles in the world, it would have been nearly impossible for massive amounts of mixing to occur. Most Muggles have some magic in their history and most purebloods have a secret, non-magical ancestor of some sort."

"But you don't, so you look different in the muggle world." Ron was beginning to work things out.

"I really don't just look different; I _am_ different. School's important to me, of course, but I don't put it before my life like I do at Hogwarts. There's no reason to, really. And I technically still live with my parents, but they trust me and Dani, so they found us an apartment in the city last summer. My older brother, Jackson, works at this club, so he used to get us in for free, and before we were old enough."

"After he tried to get Pedro--"

"Peter," Harry corrected quickly.

"--right, Peter to kick you out when you were, what, thirteen?" Her shocked and wary look delighted him. "We met this girl named Kylie, who told us all about you."

"Failed to mention that you were such a temptress, though. According to Nicholas, when you beckon, men kneel."

Ron made a noise of agreement, grinning at the blush rising in her cheeks. "Yep, and I…wait, who the hell's Nicholas?"

"Nicholas," Harry informed him carelessly, "is the man I found surveying the contents of our refrigerator this morning. By the way, I apologize for drinking the coffee he made you. The man has a gift."

"Why would he be here this early in the morning?" Ron wondered aloud. The other two just watched, practically seeing the wheels turning and sparks flying underneath that thick red hair. "Did he…surely you didn't. It's a good thing you're always perfect, Hermione; no one would believe us if we tried to tell them that you're the one who lost their virginity on our trip to London."

She managed to make her snort sound regal. Harry couldn't quite help being impressed. "Ron, yes, I slept with him last night, but I didn't lose my virginity."

"Right. We're not idiotic enough to honestly believe you looked like that and he didn't touch you." Smug, Ron looked to the black-haired boy for confirmation. But Harry looked shocked, considering the meaning of her words.

"Gods, Ron, I lost my virginity, not that it's any of your business, over two-and-a-half years ago. And no, not to Victor Krum. He's a good guy, and I trusted him with my life, my heart, and…well, you don't need details." She studied their pale faces nervously, knowing full and well the extent to which she'd screwed up. By never telling them about this other life she led, she told them how little she trusted them, and how little they meant to her. Which was nonsense. "Listen. I know I should have told you about all this, about what I'm really like. But you always seemed to scorn girls like me. I'm a lot more like Lavendar and Parvati then you realize. They can be idiots, but they… I mean, I make fun of them because it makes me nervous not to. I like the way you guys treated me, even though at fourteen years old, the last thing any girl wants to be is one of the guys. But.. Harry, you know what it's like, to walk into a room and know at least one of the conversations being hushed is about you. And Ron, you've had girls doing incredibly stupid, annoying things in the hopes that you'll notice them. It 's nice not to worry about that." She exhaled slowly. "Did any of this make sense?"

Harry made a face. "Then who's Mya? We thought she was you."

"Mya, me? Oh, hell no. Mya is one of my friends from Durmstrang, who I met through the Tri-Wizards Tournament and who generally has horrible taste in men. I had the pleasure of threatening her latest bastard yesterday afternoon." Her face lit up at the memory, vividly reminding Harry and Ron that this devious new side of her was something they'd have to get used to. "Most people call me Belle. It's been my nickname for years, almost longer than I can remember."

Harry nodded mutely, glancing at Ron to see him doing the same. Suddenly the redhead perked up. "From what you've said, and what Kylie told us, you're really good friends with that Dani girl. Best friends. So tell me," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "is she seeing anyone?"

The laughter was a welcome reprieve from the last subject of conversation. "No. No, she's not seeing anyone."

"Which doesn't make any difference, Ron, cuz she's way out of your league," Harry interrupted, chuckling.

"Besides," Hermione continued, "Danielle doesn't have boyfriends. She has dates, and attractive ones." He made a face.

"Hermione Book-Worm Granger is really a party girl." Harry mused. She winced a little, but agreed. "This stands to reason that she knows a lot of great places to party." Another pause. "So why don't we have someone show us around London, the Londoner's London?"

She grinned delightedly. "Ever had sushi?"

**Author's Note** (2): So sorry to any Draco fans upset because I lied about him being in this chapter. He _will_ be in the next one! There was just no way to make that transition without cutting out some of the explanation bit, and having received so many reviews with readers confused by my "little trick", I felt a full explanation was necessary. I forget that not everyone can read my mind, and therefore sometimes people may be confused by things I completely understand since I came up with them. I'm really sorry and I hope you understand it better now, but yes, Belle and Hermione are the same person. Mya is a friend of hers (theirs?). If there's any more confusion, please review and let me know, so I can address that in the next chapter.

Also, I need some help. I do have a few more surprises, which ought to up the originality factor, so there will be a few more chapters (after all, I still have to bring in our beloved Draco Malfoy, and hook her up with someone). But I don't know whether to continue this back to Hogwarts. Thus, a vote. Do you want it to end with them going back to Hogwarts, or at Hogwarts? I do have a cute scene already written if they go back, but there won't be much of a plot left to warrant having those chapters. I'm thinking I'm gonna have Hermione get together with Harry, Ron hit it off with either Kylie or Dani, and Draco fall for Mya (who will make an appearance even if they don't get paired up). But review and let me know what you think or if the pairings should be different. Any suggestions are welcomed; they may not be used, but you'll get credit if I do or if they inspire something.

Also, I've notice a lot of authors going back and rewriting their stories to better fit the sixth book (which I both loved and hated, for obvious reasons). Since I wrote that Voldermort was killed at the end of sixth year, it's pretty much evident that I already deviated from the wonderful J.K. Rowling's storyline. That means this story is gonna pretend the sixth book didn't happen. Any question? Let me know. And don't forget. Reviews feed authors, make them all excited to write and see what people think of the next installment. Feed me! (Please and thank you!) Finally, kudos and an acknowledgement to anyone who can figure out where I got the line about Dani's boyfriends and dates. TTFN.

Destiny's Darkness  
August 4, 2005


	6. Chapter 6

**Shades of Grey  
**By: Destiny's Darkness

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**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting my story here. Publishers would be arguing over me. Please observe the lack of agents running around. Just rub it in, why don't you?

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**Chapter Six**

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Hermione lost control. A rare occurrence at best, she allowed her thoughts to drift as she moved instinctively, gyrating her body in response to the pleasure whashing through her. She'd not done this in far too long—she missed it. Missed the passion, the heat, the feel of another body so close, his hands on her. The rush, hmmm…, she'd forgotten how that rush could make everything in the world seem better. Enemies could become friends, friends could become lovers, or like now, strangers became intimate acquaintances. She arched her back, leaning away and simultaneously wrapping herself more securely around him. She felt her partner shift, letting her know of his intention to turn her. She'd have to remember to thank Dani later, when she wasn't so… occupied. 

"Having fun?"

Gazing at him, Hermione realized her eyes were slightly enfocused. "Mmmm, yes. I'm still not sure why it's been so long since I've last done this. I just always forget how erotic it can be. When I tell people about this, they treat me like an old fogey. I mean, ballroom dancing?" She laughed trying to imitate their disbelief.

Her partner grinned. "Idiots. You should come here more often, though. We have salsa until nine every Monday night." He began an intricate series of steps, trusting their energy and momentum to carry them through, then letting them both catch their breathe in the quick pose at the end.

"You said, "we"? Do you work here then?"

"Sometimes." He paused to focus on the next spin. "I'm one of the dancers here."

"Really? One of the ones they pay to keep people on the floor?"

He raised an eyebrow, surprised to find she know what he meant.

"I considered doing that during breaks for a while. Seemed like an easy job."

"It can be. Nights like tonight," he nodded his head at the impressive crowd on the dance floor, "it's not too bad. You can stop, talk to people, grab a drink or two. You can stop, talk to people, grab a drink or two. But a slow night? No way. I've seen people fired for running to grab a bottle of water. Gotta stay on the floor."

"People don't like to think anyone's watching them, especially when they don't have much confidence."

"Exactly. If the hired dancers aren't there, no one wants to be the first one to start dancing." Their fingers intertwined as he pressed her back to his chest for the sways. "And you? You don't actually seem the type to learn ballroom dance, actually. No offense, of course."

"None taken. It was a family thing. Kind of an unwritten rule that you had to be able to dance at a formal occasion." Her hair brushed the floor as she fell back, letting him support her. "Come to think of it, it may be written down somewhere. Anyway, I used to make Dani come with me to lessons as a kid," she admitted, pointing out the blonde showing off on the other side of the room. "She ended up being really good at it, to be honest. Whenever I tried to stop, she'd drag me along anyway."

"She looks familiar."

"She substitute teaches at some of the studios around here. Last I checked, when she gets done with Uni she wants to open her own. Tango, salsa, foxtrot—she's going to cover all the bases."

"Interesting. And what are you going to do?"

"Oh, I'm definitely going to help out. Probably won't teach or the like, but I'll help financially."

"I meant what are you doing when _you're_ out of school."

"O, I know. I haven't decided, I guess." They back-stepped into a semi-lift. "There's so many options, you know?"

"Going to stay at home and raise the kids?"

She snorted. "Yeah, I can see it now. Aprons and cookies? Please. I think I'd like a family someday, but it won't be the only thing in my life."

"That sounds rather bitter. Don't think being a housewife's good enough for you?"

She glared jokingly at him, recognizing the same emotion in his voice. "I don't think I'm near good enough to be one. All that running around and so little credit? I'm too spoiled for that. Stay-at-home mms are the hardest workers I've ever heard off." She wrapped her leg behind his knee, bracing herself in the final dip. She started giggling, and he raised her back up. "Thank you. It's truly been fun."

"What about another dance?""

But she was already untangling herself. "I'm sorry. My friends should be here by now; I'm supposed to meet them. But I enjoyed the dance…"

"Jeremiah. Jeremiah Duncan."

"Jeremiah. I'm Hermione, better known as Belle."

"I thought so." Her smile dimmed considerably. "Oh, don't look so upset. I won't go nuts or anything."

Her lips twisted in amusement. "Well, I suppose I have to go, just in case. But I may have to come back sometime for another dance. Are you staying much later?"

"It's, what, quarter until nine or so? I wasn't planning on it, but for you…. Sure, birdie, I'll stick around for a bit more."

She laughed again as she walked away, tossing a promise over her shoulder to come back for a faster danse, the music changing to a quick rap before she even reached the front row of tables. She found them exactly where Kylie swore they'd be, just as they were arriving at the table. She kissed Ron on the cheek, then Harry, who swung her out at arm's length to look her over. A vision, he decided silently, a seductive vision in low-riding black Capri's tied up to show off impossibly toned calves leading to golden stilettos perfectly matching her top, a pseudo-backless halter held on by a dozen thin, crisscrossing straps. She'd pulled her long hair up into a tight knot, a few tendrils coming loose to frame her neck and face, all highlighted by her golden make-up. "Stunning," he informed her simply.

"Of course," Hermione tossed back. But she blushed a little, coming in close again to place a quick peck on the other cheekbone. "Thank you."

They stood like that for a few minutes, neither willing to move while they laughed at Ron's antics, both relishing the feel of Harry's rough palm pressed against Hermione's bare hip, his arm encircling her waist. When they sat, finally, Harry scooted his chair just a little too close to be proper and slung an arm about her shoulders. "Did you get all your errands done?" Harry asked, voice quiet.

She nodded absently. Then winced. "Not quite."

"What do you have left?"

"I didn't get to my parents. I'd like to visit them before Christmas, see if they want to meet up or anything."

"You don't normally stay with your family during Christmas?"

"Harry, I normally stay at school. With you and Ron?"

He smiled, but his attention focused on where his hand had lifted to the nape of her neck, massaging the tight muscles he found there. "But you got everything else done?"

"I, um, yeah, I think, um, I think so." She refused to believe that simple, caressing touch caused her mouth and throat to dry our. "I picked up the last couple presents I need for people. I'm pretty sure everything's wrapped. I baked some cookies and candies for my landlord. Talked with him about our lease—"

"Really," Dani interrupted, leaning forward in her seat. "What'd he say?"

"All roads clear. We're his favorite tenants," she laughed, counting off on her fingers. "Our rent's always on time or early. We never have complaints, either by or against us. The apartment's always clean, smells nice. If something does break or need maintenance, we're always polite and easy-going. We'll take care of it ourselves if we're allowed by our lease. The list went on for a while."

"The parentals will be impressed."

"Wait," Ron blurted out. "Do you two live together?"

Dani stared Hermione down with an artfully raised eyebrow. "Yes," she answered, while the witch struggled not to squirm in her seat. "Yes, we have a really nice apartment a few streets north of downtown."

"You didn't tell us that you had your own apartment," Harry murmured. "You could have stayed there if you'd have been more comfortable."

"Oh, yes, Ron's parents would have been just thrilled if they found out. Speaking of which, did Remus stop by yesterday?"

"For a bit. He brought some food and stuff." Ron grinned as he continued. "Was a bit suspicious that you weren't there, by the way. I had to tell him you were at the library."

She rolled her eyes. "Always the same excuse. I'd be more irritated if it weren't for the fact anyone you meet here would be surprised by that assumption."

Their silent disagreement clashed with Dani and Kylie's obvious opinions. Sensing a conflict brewing, Harry returned to his previous question. "So other than that, what'd you do today?"

"Check on Mya. Ran into some people I haven't seen in a while. Nothing much." She leaned forward in her seat and waved at someone. "What about you all? Have fun touring Muggle London?"

"Yeah. Um… we saw Big Ben. Then we went by this coffee shop place—"

"Oh, that reminds me," Kylie burst in. "Robert wants to know if you want any hours."

Hermione thought a moment. "I don't think so. The break's a stress-free vacation, or it's supposed to be, at least. The last few weeks of school really loaded on the tension." She snuck a glance at Harry out of the corner of her eye, but he wasn't paying attention, concentrating completely on where his fingertips continued to rub the nape of her neck. "Harry. Harry!" He finally glanced up, eyes glazed and an odd little smile on his face. "There's this girl named Cho. Remember her?"

His instinctive jerk back suggested that he hadn't, not for several days at least, emphasized by the spreading red flush along his cheekbones. "Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Already her skin missed the warmth of his hands. "Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one whose boyfriend forgot about her."

The silence made Dani's skin crawl. "Oh, Belle, that reminds me. I bumped into this guy this morning, and I think he goes to your school."

Ron looked surprised. "How do you know? I mean, how would you?"

"Belle sends me all of her old magazines and newspapers."

"Don't give me that look, Ronald," the girl in question interrupted. "I started because I was worried about Voldemort running loose. If he was attacking Muggles, my best friend was not going to be uniformed."

"Yeah… so anyway, I recognized his name and we started talking. He seemed kind of lonely, so I invited to meet us here tonight. I hope no one minds."

No one answered at first, then Harry shrugged. "No problems here, but who is he? I think I missed his name."

She grimaced. "I don't think I said it. It's, um.. oh, I don't remember now. But he should be here in a little bit, so I guess we'll see."

Hermione started to say something, interrupting herself as the DJ changed songs. "I-oh! I haven't heard this song in forever. To the dance floor?"

"To the dance floor," the two girls agreed. When they rose to their feet and Harry and Ron didn't, however, they waited. "Are you coming?"

Ron blushed. "Um, well, I'm not speaking for Harry, of course. But I'm not a very good dancer, so maybe I'll just watch."

"Nonsense," Kylie giggled. "We're not asking you to breakdance. You just have to bump and grind."

* * *

Harry nursed his drink carefully, watching his friends on the floor. His treacherous eyes kept drifting to the figure in black and gold, who was laughing as she sent a would-be admirer on his way. Dani grinned at the man, one of those suave, heartbreaker types probably eight years older than them, and his cheeks flushed violently. Harry considered him briefly, assessing his build and looks, the style of his clothing, even the arrogance of his stance. Most women would have fallen at the … the _jerk_'s feet, overwhelmed by his mere presence, and Hermione laughed him off. If she could so easily toss aside a man like him, what would she want with someone like Harry? Harry with his second-hand clothes, problematic home life, danger-prone tendencies… oh, he could understand the romantic appearance of his life. But Hermione wasn't a romantic kind of girl. At least, he didn't think she was. It seemed a lot of what he knew about her wasn't true, or at least, wasn't true about her all of the time. He knew her as a bookworm, who crusaded for the rights of everyone, who took the time to help Neville despite the boy's often explosive mistakes. The girl who fought against the very government she so admired just to save a hippogriff. Who despised rule-breakers, but didn't entertain a single doubt when circumstances made it necessary. The girl who always kept a calm head about her no matter what the situation. 

He'd yet to figure out this new Hermione. This Belle. The name alone brought forth thoughts of beauty, subtle flirting, even romance. She'd certainly seemed to fit this new nickname. He watched, struggling to avoid those emotions which would get him into trouble , as she bent her knees and dropped down, slapping the floor before slowly drawing herself back up. He'd started off well, learning to move and bounce with the music. There's been a slow song or two, when he'd held her loosely in his arms and swayed with her, and fast songs where they'd broken apart. Then, all of a sudden, the slow song ended and she didn't move away. She spun around, crossing her arms to grab his belt loops and pressing back between his hips. She must have felt him exhale, his upper body nearly collapsing onto hers. Harry couldn't believe what he was doing, all pretense of feeling the music gone as he simply struggled not to embarrass himself. After all, he'd seen the other couples grinding together earlier, but never suspected he'd be forced, well, "forced" to do the same. He crossed his hands over her arms to hold onto her hips, wrapping himself about her as she guided his hips. Concentrating on the feel of her fingers intertwined with his jeans, he strained to conceal his increasing reaction to holding her so close, and when the song ended he found himself feeling both relief and the oddest sense of dismay. She spun about, out of his arms, and discretely avoided commenting on the sweat rolling down his face as he excused himself.

Cho. Oh, Merlin's blood, he couldn't even picture her face. He knew she had straight black hair, so why did he see rough-and-tumble brown curls? Her fashion rivaled those on the cover of Witches Weekly, so why was he drawn to hip Muggle styles? He cared for Cho, but how much? Ever since he'd learned Hermione held feelings for him, he'd been so confused by the conflicting emotions. He'd never been particularly attracted to Hermione, had he? So why would he feel like his wildest dreams had come true? Like something he never thought could happen had suddenly came within his grasp?

Dani interrupted his musings. "You know, it really seems incredible how low her self-esteem is." She moved next to him and leaned against the railing that overlooked the dancers. "She's not beautiful—"

"Yes, she is."

"Let me finish, for heaven's sake. She's not beautiful in the traditional sense. If a critical eye looked her over, they'd probably see more flaws than perfections. Her hair's too long—no matter how much she cuts off, it grows back unnaturally fast—and won't hold the highlights that everyone else just adores. She's got these odd little scars, like that one on the back of her shoulders."

He chuckled, a dry, somewhat humorless sound. "That's my fault, I'm afraid. Our fifth year of school, I talked her into a "rescue" mission of sorts. Someone had convinced me my godfather was in danger, and I just knew I was the only one who could help. She tried to talk me out of it…"

"But you ended up taking her and four or five others to some government place. There was a huge fight, and people died. Don't look so surprised. Belle's hasn't kept a secret from me since my boyfriend hit on her four years ago, and even that came out. She was so worried you would hate her for that."

"Hate her? Hate her for following me into danger when she knew in her heart that I was wrong? What excuse could I possibly have for hating her?"

"It varied. Some days she thought she should have stalled you longer, pressured you into going back up to the school and trying to contact someone else. Other times she knew in her heart that she should have supported you more wholeheartedly, that you would never forgive her for not believing you right away. But don't feel bad. That little scar on her face, almost hidden in her left eyebrow? That one's mine. We were sixteen, celebrating my birthday, and she really didn't trust the guys we were with. We were both a little drunk, and they said they'd take us back to my house. She insisted that the hour-and-a-half we'd known them wasn't long enough to trust them, but I told her that I'd met them before. I don't remember ever lying to her before. I don't know what prompted that one. But anyway, I convinced her to get in the car, and they tried to kidnap us. Of course, dear sweet Belle isn't the type to sit and let someone just take advantage of her. She kneed one of the guys in the groin, and he put her head through the window. We all thought she'd be scarred permanently, but just that one."

Harry swallowed thickly. "What happened?" he asked, fighting against the rage coursing through him at the idea of someone taking advantage of her—of them. She took a moment to answer, staring at her hands and twisting them uncomfortably.

"Hmm. They weren't the most intelligent criminals, just Uni students who thought they were. Unfortunately for them, they were still parked outside the club when they smashed up Belle's face. The bouncers, who happened to be close, personal friends of ours and self-proclaimed guardians, tore them apart. They ended up spending more time in the hospital than she did. I've never felt so guilty and devastated about anything in my entire life," her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands, "and she's totally blown it off. She doesn't even remember it right away; I have to remind her. No, no, don't touch me. I'm fine. I will carry that horror, that guilt, to my grave, and she worries about how it affected me. She's not beautiful, not when you study her carefully. But people don't see that—they flock to her because she cares about them, and you can tell before you ever get to know her. But I'm sure you see that all the time at school."

"I guess so. I mean, I've never really thought about it, but I guess most of the younger children view her as a mother figure."

"Mother? I think we're talking about two totally different people. I wonder what's so different about Hogwarts that she acts differently. What drains away her self-confidence."

"Maybe she's really like that. Maybe she's pretending to be someone else here." Harry could here the whining in his voice, and knew that she could too, but he couldn't deny that it was unlikely. His best friend was a beautiful, lively woman. The smartest witch in a century. Surely they hadn't hurt her.

She let out a little snort of laughter. "Please. I've known Belle literally my entire life. Our parents were friends. They used the same pediatrician. It's safe to assume that I know the real Belle."

Harry stared at the dancers below, at the waitress between the tables, anywhere but the brutally honest girl standing next to him. "She used to have trouble making friends when we first got to school, until Ron and I finally opened up to her. She's so smart, so brilliant when it comes to magic, that it intimidated a lot of us as kids. And the ones who would have appreciated it, who would have admired her talent and skill, they didn't associate with her because she wasn't born of Wizard parents. They said she had dirty blood."

"Dirty blood? What idiot decided that?" She laughed a little, the tension between them unaccountably gone. "I'm sorry, I've kind of destroyed the evening, haven't I? Please forget what I said. Especially about her personality. I mean, there's radical differences between the Belle I know, and the Hermione you're describing. I've known she acts differently at Hogwarts just from hearing the stories she tells. But she's always been very, very dedicated to her studies. One of the reasons we've always been such close friends, I think. So I can imagine that if she were trapped in a castle night after night, with limited social activities and people she felt she had to prove wrong, well, I can see her escaping into her books. I bet she even studies the.. Muggle world. That's what you magic-types call it, right? She probably sat there in the library, pouring over old tomes everyone thought were magic related but were really history and calculus and physics."

"Why would you think that?" Harry chuckled, finding it surprisingly easy to imagine.

"Oh, because I was sending her those kind of textbooks throughout the year." Harry's startled expression forced her to grin. "She wanted to keep up, for when she graduated and rejoined the 'real' world."

"Um… I don't thinks she's planning on that, actually. I thinks she's going to become a mediwitch."

"We'll see." They dropped back into silence, watching the object of their discussion, as Harry wondered about her smug tone. "Hey, look!" she exclaimed suddenly. She leaned over the railing, trying to get someone's attention. "It's your friend from school. Oh, he can't see me. I'll be right back."

She slipped into the crowd before Harry reacted, so he turned back to where she'd been looking, straining to catch a glimpse of Seamus, or Dean. Maybe it was the Ernie bloke. He'd been talking about visiting Muggle London, with the laughable enthusiasm of someone visiting another country. Or rather, Neville had been in the paper quite a bit, despite his wishes, so she would have recognized his name.

"Ah, here you are, right where I left you. Good boy." Dani darted back. "So, I found him. Harry, you know Draco Malfoy. Right?"**

* * *

**

**Author's Note:** I'm back! Insert triumphant music here I know this isn't very much, surely not enough to justify such a long time since my last posting, but I've had such a hard time figuring out how to put this in. Plus I've started college, and moved to another state, so… not very good excuses, but I'll take what I can get. On the upside, I've already written the beginning to the next chapter several months ago, and despite the fact I no longer have access to it, I've certainly read over it enough that it should be fairly easy to rewrite it and finish that up.

Obviously this still has a little way to go. I have to admit, I was worried about it moving to quickly, and then, um, well, I realized I'd forgotten all about poor Cho, just like Harry. Forgive me while I hide my head in shame. But there's still more to be revealed, so keep reading. Also, I'm still vaguely undecided on how it all's gonna work out. Right now, Harry and Hermione are probably gonna get together, along with Malfoy/Dani and Ron/well, undecided. But I'm also considering Draco/Hermione, Ron/Dani, and Harry/Cho. So I'd really appreciate if ya'll would review and let me know. If you have a really good idea, who knows? I'd probably use it. So leave me a message, and a few suggestions.

Finally (I promise) I'd like to thank those who've reviewed. I do appreciate it, and had intended to set something up where I could thank everyone with out taking up space here, but that didn't pan out. So thanks everyone who's reviewed: **hottiesplomiegurl**, **Pioggia scura**, **Kristina**,** Marla1**,** Pistol**, **Black-rose23**,** hpb**,** Marla1**,** Piece**, **Neptunesmoons**,** Aneli**,** Attolia**,"**none**", **griffingirl**,** MystyKitty**,** WannaBArtist**,** I am Meagan**,** Fairy O' Fire**,** Nathifa Femi**,"", **lilchica**,** darkrosepetals122**,** gcgurl21**,** AnimeHanyou39**,** xoxox-slightly-obsessed-xoxox**,** sweetmelody**,** GCgurl21**,** annie**,** Nathifa Femi**,** FireBringer**,** s2MiszesEvalynnMalfoys2**, and** sycoticatalyst**. Thanks and I adore ya'll!

Destiny's Darkness  
9-24-2005


	7. Chapter 7

**Shades of Grey**  
By: Destiny's Darkness

**

* * *

Disclaimer:** Of course, nothing that you've heard of outside this fic belongs to me. If you do choose to use one of my original characters, just let me know so that I can see what sorts of messes they get into. Oh, and my Miss Angela is inspired by a similar character from novelist Dean Koontz. **

* * *

Chapter Seven**

* * *

Hermione Granger knew exactly what she was going to say to that nosy, over-bearing, little meddler that called herself a best friend. _Ugh!_ She practically ripped the door off its hinges as she barged through it, into her apartment building's lobby. Barely noticing the shocked expressions on its occupants' faces, she would have walked past all of them entirely had the woman not placed herself directly in Hermione's path. She might have slipped right around the obstacle had it been anyone else, but they both knew the grandmother figure, with her grey-ed hair held in place by her ever-present knitting needles, wouldn't allow it. "Belle, child, I don't believe that I've seen you in ages. Did you hear about the despicable Mr. Montegrew?" 

"Despicable? Last I heard, the two of you were really burning up the sh—no, no, no. I'm sorry, Miss Angela, you know I'd love to hear about whatever the fool did, but I really, really need to find Dani." She bent over to press an affectionate kiss to the woman's cheek, as she placed her hands on her shoulders to firmly turn Miss Angela to the side. And stepped past. "We'll catch up later," she promised.

Damn that woman. Hermione rolled her eyes at the knowledge, but her neighbor had just cooled the vast majority of Hermione's anger. Some were scandalized by the woman's deceptive innocence, but she just truly delighted Hermione and Dani. On free nights, they'd venture into her crammed little apartment and laugh over her escapades, past and present. As a few of those very stories drifted through her head, causing the corners of her lips to lift in a smile, she lost herself while mounting the stairs. Her landlord had to repeat her name several times before her vision focused on his face. "Mr. Montegrew, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"My apologies. I just wanted to express my thanks once more. Those lessons at that cooking school in Paris really paid off."

"Oh, nonsense. They're just cookies. Surely you knew you'd be getting them for Christmas. You're practically our uncle. And you've only gotten them for New Year's, your birthday…"

"Of course, of course. You have a nice night, Miss Belle." He paused in front of someone's door, obviously torn about something he wanted to add. "It's good to have you home, for the night, at least."

She stared, touched, as he knocked on the door and picked his toolbox back up. Only once he disappeared inside did she manage to make herself finish the journey up the stairs to their flat. Staring at the door, the numbers gold and shiny before her eyes, she took a long moment to gather her anger again before shoving her keys into the lock and flinging the door open.

"Danielle!"

The shout burst from her throat in a roar that surprised her as much as it probably startled her roommate, who burst from her room down the short hallway, her hands filled with linens. "Belle, honey, what's wrong?"

"Why exactly did you disappear from the club tonight?"

"I, um, well—"

"Harry seems to think that it may have had something to do with _Draco Malfoy_ showing up at the club tonight. At your invitation. Since he seems to be that "friend of ours" you ran into earlier." She studied the blonde suspiciously, her lips twisted in a grimace.

Dani couldn't meet her eyes at first, not when she knew exactly how Hermione felt about the boy, but she suddenly felt her own anger rising up. "Don't treat me like that, Belle. You're my friend, not my mother."

"Treat you like what? Like a liar?" Hermione dropped onto the couch, the very one they'd spent hours combing through secondhand shops for the summer before. "Why would you do that, Dani? I mean, what could possibly have been going through your mind? Was anything?"

"Your friend doesn't seem to like me much."

At the sound of the silky smooth, arrogant drawl, tension immediately flooded back into her shoulders. Ah, that familiar tension, which swamped her at almost every waking moment while under the Hogwarts' roof. She stared into Dani's almost even gaze, instinctively noting the pale skin becoming rapidly paler around the guilty eyes. "Dani, do _not_ let me turn around and see him standing there."

"Well, then I wouldn't turn around."

The faint amusement in his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck lift nervously. He was never amused around her without someone ending up in detention or the hospital wing. "Why is he here?"

To her credit, she managed, somehow, to keep her voice calm and quiet, to sound genuinely curious instead of desperate to see his spoiled ass back outside the door.

"He didn't have anywhere to stay tonight, so I offered him a bed," the blonde replied stiffly, her back straight and her head high.

"I hope to high heaven you did _not_ mean my bed." Hermione's eyes darted to look at him for the first time since entering the apartment, then spun back to Danielle. "And I _really_ hope you didn't mean yours."

"We hadn't decided yet, actually," the one in question chuckled, clearly trying to be amused by the whole confrontation.

Dani winced. "You're not helping yourself."

"And I don't particularly care. It wasn't my intention to cause problems between you and your…wait, are you two lovers?"

Hermione didn't have to look to know his silver—grey, Hermione, damn it, grey—eyes sparkled with excitement rather than disgust, but she checked anyway. "For your information, it takes a hell of a lot of alcohol for that to happen, and there's not enough in all of England for it to happen with you."

He grinned. "You know, you're even sexier from the front." He waved off her angry interruption. "And you sound just like this obnoxious, know-it-all bitch I go to school with. On you, however, it's a bit of a turn on."

Danielle couldn't stop herself. She erupted in laughter, collapsing onto the sofa as the other two stared. Hermione nearly held out, but she couldn't quite block out the infectious sound. As she joined in, rather timid chuckling at first, the confused expression on Malfoy's face sent her nearly to her knees. He stood there, uncertain of the joke, until she recovered her control and sauntered up to him. She focused her concentration on using her wide array of seductive tools, ran her fingertips across his cheek and rested them on his bottom lip. She leaned in close, allowing him to catch a drift of her scent and accidentally getting a whiff of his as well. She paused there, stunned by the fresh, clean scent of man and soap. "I don't know if I really attract you all that much, but it doesn't make much of a difference, does it? You're not staying here, not tonight, not ever. So I guess I'll see you in Potions, Malfoy. Don't forget we have two feet due on the adaptation of memory tonics."

She took advantage of the stunned expression on his face to grab his arm and drag him to the door.

"Don't you dare, Belle." Danielle's voice was low and dangerous at first, then high and frantic when she saw her friend continuing anyway. "Hermione, stop! He doesn't have anywhere to go."

"It's not my problem, or yours for that matter, if the great Malfoy couldn't be bothered to make reservations at a hotel—"

"I did."

"What?" She was distracted enough by his odd emission to allow him to pull his arm from her grasp.

He stood before the two girls, his expression somewhat sad and embarrassed and another emotion Hermione and Dani couldn't quite identify. "I did have a reservation at my hotel. I made it weeks ago. But when I got there, they claimed I didn't, even when I showed them my letter of confirmation. They just, uh, crumpled it up and pointed to the door." He glanced down at his hands, that white-blond hair falling into his eyes. Despite all of her attempts to silence them, she couldn't ignore those little voices pointing out how lost he looked, like a forlorn little boy. "I probably would have gone home, but I have some meetings over the next few days to settle my parents' affairs with their lawyers."

Dani pouted, knowing how soft-hearted the brunette really was. "You can't just turn him out on the streets, Belle."

"Oh, yes, I can," Hermione snarled. "He should have know that the name Malfoy doesn't get the respect he's used to anymore."

"Which is why I followed the lawyers' suggestion to use my paternal grandmother's maiden name."

"Listen, Malfoy. See Dani here? She's a muggle, pure and simple."

If she expected to see disgust, the lecherous expression disappointed her. "Yes, so it would seem." He started to reach around her to Dani, barely jerking back when Hermione swatted his hand away.

"Get out, Malfoy. Just get out."

Dani slammed the door shut before Hermione could shove him through the opening. They locked eyes, both angry but also uncomfortable with this show of aggression.

"Are you really going to … ugh!" Hermione turned from Dani to Malfoy. "Listen, can you give us a few minutes? You don't have to leave or anything, but just… just let us talk alone."

He shrugged, the nonchalance of the movement defied by the curiosity of his eyes, before making his way to the French doors closed against the cold. "Is it safe to go out here?" Hermoine waved a hand, telling him to go ahead on out, and he obeyed. After casting the open balcony a dubious look, as if he doubted its ability to keep its distance from the ground, he stepped out and pulled the doors closed behind him.

"I don't understand the problem, Belle," Dani sighed, perching on the arm of the sofa. "Why won't you let him stay here?"

"He's not a good person, Dani, and I know we've talked about it at great length, at least what he's done to me." Hermione applied pressure to the bridge of her nose to fend off the approaching headache as she sat. Dani frowned at the action, swinging her legs around and dropping beside the brunette. "It would be one thing if he was only threatening toward me, but in all truth, he tread rather cautiously around me. It wasn't much of a secret that I could more than defend myself against him, and yet he still did things that make me shudder in remembering. I've only heard rumors of what he's done to students less able to protect themselves." She paused, taking care to choose her words and to ignore the chill bumps forming on her arms. "He frightens me."

"Well, what about the Hand of God?" Dani argued, springing back up from her seat to pace. "_May mankind be rewarded or punished for their actions, guided by the hands of God._ That's what the spell said, isn't it? That's what you told me about. Magical leaders from the entire world gathering together in a forbidden chamber behind a forbidden curtain—"

"Veil."

"—in a forbidden room in a restricted department, casting a spell to ensure that everyone got just what they deserved, be it death, misfortune, or glory. We even saw it here in the non-Wizarding world. Crime rates absolutely plummeted."

"But crime didn't stop completely, did it? There are still murderers and rapists and thieves. The spell wasn't perfect." The brunette captured one of Dani's hands and forced her to stop before her. "Malfoy's charming, I'll give him that. He's very attractive, and I'm certain he can make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when he puts his mind to it. But you really have to remember how much he hates muggles. You're beautiful, you know that. But for Malfoy, being in a relationship with you, sleeping with you, even hanging around you, is his version of going slumming."

"Thank you. Thank you, Belle." Dani studied Draco through the window, watching him stand there, his blond hair mussed by the wind as he wrapped his arms around himself. "Listen, I understand your reasoning and all, but, well, you don't have any proof that he _hasn't_ changed, do you? He's been perfectly nice to me. And he doesn't have anywhere to go. I couldn't just put him out on the streets."

"You know, that's funny because yes, actually… you could."

She glared at Hermione, her face unusually determined, even for the queen of sympathy causes. Hesitating just enough for Hermione to grow nervous with anticipation at her next move, she conceded, "Fine, he won't stay here. If you're that determined to let someone freeze to death on the streets, to play at being God, he's gone. He won't stay here."

The brunette was tempted to stop arguing and just leave it at that, but something in her best friend's eyes warned her against accepting that promise. They'd known each other forever, quite literally since the womb, thanks to their parents being close friends for decades, and years of experience taught her that the only thing Dani gave into that easily was Double Chocolate Fudge ice cream. Brown eyes flashed to the balcony, and understanding came. "For Merlin's sake!" she growled. She stomped away, flung open the door and jerked the wizard back inside. "Grab your things, Ferret. You're coming with me."

Draco allowed her to pull him toward the bedroom, a lecherous smile all the way to his eyes. "You know, I don't normally sleep with strangers, but I think I'll make an exception for you."

She rolled her eyes. "I hate to break it to you, Ferret-boy, but I'd chew acid tablets before jumping you."

Dani laughed from behind them. "Belle, dearest, _heaven helps the man who fights his fears_," she called out. Draco froze in his footsteps, shivering from his time outside in the freezing wind, and looked back uncertainly at the crazy lady behind him.

The brunette scowled. "Yeah? Well, _where have all the good men gone_?" she retorted.

"_Love is always born on a chance_."

"You two are drunk, aren't you?" Draco interrupted, even as Belle took a threatening step forward. His attention was focused on Danielle, who sat grinning on the couch with her feet propped up on the armrest, but he spared his captor the briefest glance out of the corner of his steel grey eyes. And his entire demeanor changed. "Oh, damn it. _Damn it!_ It really is you, isn't it? Mudblood Granger. I thought you were playing a prank on me. Bloody hell, now _I_ need a drink." He jerked his arm free of Hermione's grasp, and moved to the bar set-up at the side of the room.

"We're not drunk," Dani laughed, a hand pressed to her aching side.

"And we don't have any alcohol in any of those cabinets," Hermione added in resignation, watching the hated wizard tear through them. He stopped, the expression on his face of near desolation.

"You don't?"

"Of course not," Dani replied. "Why on earth would you put any alcohol there? That's the very first place parents check when they visit." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But if you're _really_ desperate, you might check the back of the pantry."

"Dani!"

"What? The boy needs a drink—you heard him."

His delighted roar overpowered Hermione's reply. "Merlin's beard, did you rob a bar?"

Dark brown eyes closed slowly. "Dani? I want him out of this apartment. You understand that, don't you? Is that really helping?" She raised her voice to reach Draco, where he was undoubtedly staring at the shelves of alcohol like a kid in a candy shop. "Don't touch any of that, Malfoy. You're not staying."

"Yeah, well, how are you going to make me leave when you're drunk too?"

"We're not… we're not drunk, you idiot! It's from _Footloose_. You know, the movie? Dani's obsessed with movies."

"Sure," he tossed back, a sing-song quality in his voice as his footsteps made their way back and forth in the pantry. "What's a moh-vay?"

"_A movie_. It's this…it's when… it's a muggle thing, okay?"

Dani had taken to snickering behind the sofa back. "Just leave him alone, Belle. Let the boy have his alcohol."

"Dani." She turned, the low, furious growl effectively silencing the blonde. Dani stared at her, stunned, while Hermione tried unsuccessfully to gather herself with a few deep breaths. "Please just cooperate with me on this. Please?"

The blonde studied her roommate cautiously, almost hurt herself by the hurt in the brunette's voice. But what had caused such hurt, that pain so thick and unavoidable buried in her words? Dani knew, from words exchanged and words withheld, that his Malfoy figure had always had a strong influence on Belle, more than any teacher, more than Harry and Ron, almost as much as Dani herself. But despite years of quiet prodding and questions, she'd never learned as much about it as she was learning just watching the interactions between the two enemies at this point in time.

When she told Harry that Bell could never keep a secret from her, it seemed that maybe Belle had one or two up her sleeve just the same.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I apologize, as always, for the delay. It seems it takes me longer to update every chapter, a trend I hope to discontinue. I know I said that I had the first part of the next chapter (_this_ chapter) written already, but I really wanted to include this chapter first. Looking back, I just jump from one revelation to another to another: finding out Hermione fancies herself in love with Harry, Harry learning of her feelings, learning that Hermione's a pure-blooded Muggle, learning what the Hand of God spell did, etc. I actually had a good deal of this written for a while, up to the last three paragraphs really, but none of it was… working. Anyway, I do have a good portion of the next chapter already, honestly. It (hopefully) shouldn't be another three months before I update again. 

And in the earlier chapter, the line about Dani and her dates comes from "The Princess Diaries 2". No winners but maybe next time. Right?

I'm done rambling now, I swear.

Destiny's Darkness  
January 3, 2006


	8. Chapter 8

**Shades of Grey  
**By: Destiny's Darkness

Disclaimer: Not mine in so many ways. Original ideas, however, are.

**Chapter Eight**

"Why did we have to deal with him?" Ron whined, tagging behind Hermione as she picked up the pillow and blanket from the couch. "We could have just turned him out on the street."

"I wanted to, Ron. _Trust me_, I wanted to. But Dani would have gone back out and found him the moment I left."

"So?"

"Ronald Weasley, I don't like this situation any more than you do. But my best friend was _not_ spending the night with a known Muggle-hater." She dropped her armful back onto the couch, then paused to plump the pillow.

Behind them, Dani rolled her eyes. "And you three would have him bruised and bloody in an alleyway within an hour. Which is why I stayed too. You needed a chaperone."

Ron grinned lecherously. "My bed had extra room in it, you know."

"Which is why she stayed in my room," Hermione sighed, tossing the sound over her shoulder as she made her way to relieve Harry from his Draco-watching duties in the kitchen.

He stormed out a moment later, his face only a little red. "I don't care what you said, Dani; the Lord of the Manor has not been punished by that stupid spell."

She found herself rolling her eyes again. "Relax, Harry. The _Hand of God_ punished Draco. Just because you don't know the details doesn't mean it doesn't happen."

They sat in silence for a moment, Harry calming himself down and Dani studying him carefully while Ron eyed the kitchen door. Finally the redhead spoke up. "So what happened to you?"

"Nothing, really. I've not been particularly good or particularly bad. And that's the way it is for most people, not clearly on either side of the line."

That. Yeah, that he could understand. A wicked grin grew on his face. "What happened to Hermione?"

Hers matched. "That, my friend, is for her and her alone to tell you."

A crash interrupted his begging before he could properly begin. Hermione and Draco started screaming, accentuating their points with smaller crashes.

"Oh, no, you don't," the Muggle laughed, grapping Ron's arm and stopping him from charging in there. "She can defend herself. Plus they have a lot of sexual tension to work out."

Two words stopped both Harry and Ron in their tracks. "That's not sexual tension!" Ron yelped desperately. "That's hate."

"Please," she responded, smirking at the identical, horror-struck expressions. "Have you seen the way they look at each other? When she insults him, you can see hurt in his eyes. And the same goes for her, much of the time. Your insults don't affect him any where as remotely, even when you insult his parents." She gave a little shrug. "And when there's not a fight, and she makes one of her stunningly intelligent comments, he looks proud of her. Plus, I know she had the hots for him, and did you see the way he looked at her when she came back from dancing at the club last night?"

"Ogres would look at her that way in that outfit," Harry grumbled, stung by the idea that she might have been attracted to both him and Malfoy, of all people, at the same time.

"An ogre would look like he wanted her in a dark alley somewhere. _Draco_ looked like he wanted to protect her from anything that could ever hurt her, after ripping out your eyes for looking at her too. That, my friends, is sexual attraction, bordering on love."

"What!"

Harry was off and running for the kitchen, Ron on his heels, ignoring the knocking at the front door. Dani debated the slightest fraction of a second before going to see who was interrupting her daily dose of drama.

"Belle!"

Hermione froze, mindful of Malfoy's wand pointing between her eyes while hers scraped his throat. They were both breathing heavily, eyes aflame. Well, hers were, at least. The narrow-mind git! Ungrateful little… argh. She's simply been trying to treat him like he wasn't a murderer and explain about the effects of the anti-Muggle spells. _Didn't that just prove my point that you don't belong?_ The arrogance of that… that… pauper! You'd think having your family fortune and redistributed to Muggles affected by Voldemort would have taken him down a notch or two, but no.

Through her rage, she vaguely saw Harry and Ron watching nervously from the doorway and somewhat heard Dani talking to someone on their way down the hall. "Belle, dearest, you have a guest!"

Suddenly the other voice, mixed with the obvious warning in Dani's voice, broke through the red haze. As the stranger swept into the kitchen before the blonde, all three boys instinctively turned to see how Hermione was going to explain to this stunningly elegant woman why exactly she was practically pinned under Malfoy on the table and they were pointing sticks at each other. But Hermione had moved. She'd shoved Malfoy away and slipped past him, going to the woman with outstretched arms.

"Aunt Meredith," the brunette murmured as she allowed herself to be air-kissed on both cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

"Did you think that I wouldn't come say hello to my favorite niece whenever I get the chance? We've got a lot of catching up to do." Instantly making herself at home, she dropped her coat and purse on hooks on the back of the door, hooks the boys had yet to even notice. "Isn't this suit just adorable?" Both Dani and Belle agreed as she ran her hands down the smooth cut of the fabric. "Can you believe they called it retro?" Anyway, I stopped by your apartment building and you doorman said you were staying here, so I decided to pay you a visit."

"I filled James in on the living arrangements," Dani clarified at Hermione's confused expression. "You know how he worries when you don't stay at the apartment. It stems, of course, from his undying and eternal adoration for you."

Meredith cast a sharp glance at Malfoy, who hadn't quite concealed his amusement at the idea. "I'd love a cup of tea, dear. Would you mind terribly?"

"I believe we have some Earl Grey," Hermione replied, even as she filled a kettle from the tap and set it on the stove. "I hope that will do."

"Tea is tea. I do hope you all will join us?" Though she directed the question at the three boys and Dani, they realized that she wasn't actually asking. They sat. "I know Dani, of course. But I don't believe I've met you three."

"Of course. I apologize, Aunt Meredith. Forgive me for being rude." Hermione joined everyone at the table. "This is Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter, and next to Dani is Draco Malfoy."

"Pleased to meet you two at last. Hermione mentions a great deal about you in her emails. But I'm afraid I don't recall hearing much about you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, well," Hermione interrupted, "I was planning on sending off one of those emails later today. I guess I can take you off that list."

"I needed to take a few weeks before the Challenge. This season has just been _insane_—everyone's trying to outdo each other! Did you hear that Anita Barvalo imported three wild jaguars for the New York Children's Charity auction? She had a jungle theme, you see," Meredith explained in a lightly mocking tone. "And then Morgan Trimens decided that our rainforest theme was too similar and too soon after, so she changed the entire theme to 'In Queen Victoria's Court'. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hunt down Victorian era decorations in Madrid? Much less any sort of attire? I'm telling you, Hermione, you're missing out by continuing you education at that nutty school of yours. And the extra year before university pushes back your Political Science degree."

Hermione leaned forward. "I'm sorry I won't be able to see the Challenge again. How's you caption this year?"

"You would probably know better than I would, dearest. It's Sir Mitchell Halingsburg."

"Mitch? How wonderful. He must be so thrilled about the new boat."

"He is. He handles her like she was made for him, which of course she was, but it's like they read each other's thoughts." The dark-haired woman raised an eyebrow at her niece. "But shouldn't you already know that? Weren't you two rather… involved last season?"

"Actually," Dani corrected, smirking at her annoyed best friend, "I believe the final consensus was that they eloped before Belle left him for another man and broke his fragile heart."

"What nonsense. Two dates, that's it, and we decided we were better as friends."

"Oh, posh. I got it straight from the horse's mouth. In his own words, he's positively in love with you."

Hermione laughed, leaning back in her seat. "And I'm supposed to believe you? You've been pushing us together ever since he was knighted."

Before Meredith could respond, Draco interrupted. "He's knighted? Well, Granger, I must say, I'm not sure if I should be surprised or impressed." The chaos he was expecting was never unleashed. Harry and Ron had made a point of deliberately ignoring him. Dani and Meredith both frowned while Hermione smiled, a delighted expression that left Malfoy apprehensive.

"Malfoy, is it?" Meredith snapped her own expression unforgiving. "Well, you must not be very familiar with our Hermione or you'd know that she doesn't hold with any of this rubbish about dating beneath her having better blood. You shouldn't read everything you read in the papers. That reminds me," she continued, turning back to Hermione, "who is your escort for the ball next Friday?"

Her only answer was the confused silence and Hermione's blank look.

"Surely you've heard?"

"Of the Christmas Eve ball? Of course. How is Aunt Elizabeth?"

"She—she's fine, though I've never understood why she lets you call her that. She'd take a horsewhip to anyone else if they tried it. But—"

"Well, she loves me best."

"Belle. Darling. Tell me you've heard the news."

"I believe I received an invitation a few months ago, but I wasn't really planning on going."

Meredith fell back and covered her eyes with trembling fingers. "She wasn't planning on attending. _She wasn't planning on attending._ I mean, I knew none of the dressmakers were bragging about dressing you, but I just though you were keeping your gown a secret to stun everyone with your arrival." Her voice picked up on the trembling with a touch of hysteria, though if it was amusement or panic was unidentifiable. "They've only been planning this particular ball for two years. And one bothered to tell her about it."

Hermione exchanged worried glances with Dani. "What is it? Is something wrong with Aunt Elizabeth?"

"Oh, no," the woman laughed. "She's fine. In fact, she's more than fine. She's planning to make an announcement at that ball. _Your_ announcement."

Dani gulped, a strangled gasp, but Hermione froze. Whatever the three boys expect the strange declaration to cause, it wasn't for the blood to rush from the brunette's face, her eyes to roll back in her head, and for her to collapse. Harry leaped from his seat and somehow managed to get to her side before she hit the floor. He cradled her head, brushing the curls from her face.

"Move, move, move," Meredith ordered, shoving Draco and Ron out of her way. "My purse. Get me my purse, boy." She waited until Ron had fetched the bag from where it was hanging on the back of the kitchen door, then snatched it from his hands, digging through it like a madwoman. "Oh, where are they? Always in my way, right until I need them. Come on, quit hiding from me. Aha!" She pulled out a small vial, yanked out the stopper, and waved it under Hermione's nose.

"Is that… is that smelling salts?" Ron asked.

Draco snorted. "You're a quick one, Weasley, aren't you?"

Ron ignored him. "You keep smelling salts in your purse?"

"Of course," Meredith murmured, obviously distracted. "For my oldest daughter, you see. Pathetic little weakling of a child, really. Can't turn on the telly without seeing something that makes her feel faint. Don't know how she ever had children."

"Be nice," Dani laughed. "She's just a bit delicate."

"Don't be diplomatic; I know exactly what she is. She's my daughter, after all. Here she comes." Indeed, Hermione began to fidget, her nose wrinkling at the odor. As she began to flutter her eyelashes, then blink her eyes, Meredith laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Easy now, dearest. Take your time."

Hermione flushed as she realized where she was, and Dani met her gaze with a wicked grin. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"I apologize, Aunt Meredith," she said finally. "There's no excuse for losing control of myself like that."

"Nonsense. You've had quite a shock."

Harry looked sharply at her. "I don't believe I understand what the shock was."

"You don't understand what the shock…" Meredith trailed off, stunned, while Hermione used the opportunity to climb back in her chair. "You've never told them."

"It never came up," she defended herself in the same tone of voice as when Harry confronted her three mornings before.

"It never came up?" Dani asked, in an incredulous voice, and with a pointed look at Malfoy that was missed by no one.

"Well, it's not like Harry's parents being murdered."

"Your parents were murdered?" Meredith asked Harry, distracted just as Hermione knew she would be. She began to mother him, patting his hand and pouring him more tea. "Oh, you poor, dear boy. How horrible! No wonder you and Hermione get on so well."

Another road Hermione didn't want to travel down. "Um, Aunt Meredith," she interrupted. "Did you say the announcement was being made next week?"

It was a feeble ploy, and they all knew it. "Yes," her aunt answered anyway. "The Grangers were supposed to send you—"

"You know, maybe this is something we should discuss in private." Hermione stood and began gathering the teacups. "If you boys could excuse us?" She shepherded them out, a meaningful motion aimed at Dani. _Keep them distracted._ Dani hesitated a moment, but finally nodded her agreement.

As the door shut behind her, Dani found herself being closed in on. "What is going on?" Harry demanded.

"It… it's not my place to tell," he managed.

"Hermione fainted," Ron muttered to himself. "I've never seen her so weak before. Not even when Voldemort was trying to break her." He looked back up from his hands, his eyes scared.

The girl opened her mouth, but couldn't find the words to help. "I'd tell you if I could, but I can't. It's really not my place. And I don't even know what she _has_ told you."

"It's her place to tell us."

At first Dani didn't recognize the dark, dangerous voice. Then Harry turned back to face them, his face white and fists clenched. Her heart twisted for him, reading the anguish on his face. "And I'm thinking she should have told us a long time ago."

"Maybe not." Dani's voice was strong, defending her friend. "If you had the opportunity, had the choice, to keep people from knowing about your parents and Voldemort, and his attempt to kill you, would you tell anyway? If you had a secret that would completely change how people treated you, how they thought of you, would you tell them anyway?"

Her voice ended and silence took over. The boys sat down around the room, stunned, somber. She tried to engage them in conversation a few times, unsuccessfully. And so they waited. Every once in a while, Hermione or her aunt's voice would rise, loud enough that those outside the kitchen could hear them but not understand the words. Time passed slowly. Ron fidgeted. Harry rubbed his scar. Draco smoothed his hair. Dani hugged her knees. The morning light began to fail as noon approached. They sat there, in that room, for just over an hour, but it could have easily been days. Time crawled.

The kitchen door finally opened, and Meredith slipped out. With a kiss on Hermione's cheeks and a good-bye to the other teenagers, she got into her car and her driver pulled away from the house. All attention turned to Hermione as she curled up beside Dani on the couch. "Did you know?"

The blonde shook her head. "You think I wouldn't have been screaming with you if I did?" She smiled, hugged the worn-out brunette. "I'm so happy for you."

"What's going on, Hermione?"

She looked at Harry, and met his gaze evenly. "It's a bit involved."

"Well, maybe you should clear some things up. Ever since this vacation started, we keep learning that you have more and more secrets. You don't look the same. You don't act the same. People don't even call you by the same name. And every instinct I have tells me that this is the real you. What other secrets could you have? Have you ever been honest with us?" His voice wasn't quiet when he started, but it gathered in rage and intensity until it was a full-blooded roar.

Hermione, who'd never had a particularly easy-going temper either, felt her own rage build. "Back off, Potter! It's not like I'm trying to trick you. There are just some aspects of my life that I'm not comfortable discussing, with you or with anybody."

"And it's easy for me to talk about having my parents murdered by the most evil wizard of all time?"

"You only found out about that when you were eleven years old. I've been dealing with this my entire life. _My entire life_. You could never understand why Dumbledore left you at your aunt and uncle's, but I do. It's hard, Harry. It's hard to have that kind of attention."

"Hermione?" Ron asked, quietly interrupting. "What are you _talking about?_"

She paled. "You see, I um…"

"What Hermione is trying to say," Dani interrupted, "is that the Grangers aren't her biological parents."

"_What?_"

The brunette looked up, not even sure who blurted out the question. All three boys wore identical expressions, complete with slack jaws and wide eyes. "I, um, I'm adopted. I was adopted at a very early age." She tossed Dani a nervous glance before watching Draco open and close his mouth like an albino goldfish.

"You're a Pureblood, aren't you?"

"What?"

Ron leapt from his seat, beginning to pace as he tried to work things out aloud. "It makes sense. You're a really powerful witch. You know more about the Wizarding World more than anyone I've ever met, except maybe Dumbledore. I bet your parents aren't even den-hists, are they?"

Dark brown eyes blinked once, twice, before she tried to answer. "Yes, they are, in fact, dentists. And why wouldn't I just admit to being a witch?"

"Because you're hiding from Voldemort, of course. You wouldn't want him to come after you."

"I wasn't even born in July. I was born in September. What would Voldemort want me?"

"I don't know. Maybe your real parents were Death-Eaters who betrayed him. Or maybe they were killed fighting for the side of the light. Or maybe…"

"Ron?" Bless him, he'd eased her stresses with his silly ranting. "I'm muggle-born. Through and through. Remember? Anti-Muggle spells? Make me go all "blah"?"

He sat back down, slightly defeated.

"My parents met in college, along with their four best friends: Dani's parents and the Grangers. They had an arranged marriage. Then they died and everyone was surprised when the lawyers read the will and discovered that this energetic little two-year-old was given to the Grangers. Not to family, though there was plenty of it around and willing to take me in. Several filed custody suits to be declared my legal guardians. But my parent's lawyer was extremely thorough, and none of the suits lasted. So after a few years, the Grangers adopted me. I consider them my family. Their oldest son is my big brother. Their younger daughter is my sister. They raised me, taught me how to ride a bike, and encouraged me in my studies." She shrugged. "Raising a witch wasn't part of the deal, but they dealt with it."

"That's the big secret then?" Malfoy scoffed.

"Part of it. See, my parents were muggles, but they… they…" she paused, struggling to find the words to express herself. "They were members of the… well…"

"Hermione isn't middle class. She's a member of the royal court, complete with titles and all."

The brunette fancied she could hear a cricket chirping through the silence, probably from somewhere in Antarctica. Ron and Harry were both shaking their heads slowly, as if they wanted to deny what she was saying. Draco was just flat-out denying it. "Yeah, then what's your "title"?"

"Lady Hermione Jane Wyndham Granger, Duchess of Alhenborough, Countess of Ebenshire, Countess of WIndaine, and Baroness of Mershole."

"You have four titles? _Four?_"

"I have four important titles, along with a few lesser known ones. You see, families die out. I was the last child borne in either side of my family, and as several of my older relatives passed on, they named me their heirs and left me their titles. It's a family tradition. Dani's going to be the Baroness of Duneson one day."

"Holy shit," Harry muttered. "And all this time I thought you were just Hermione Granger."

"I am Hermione Granger," she snapped back. "Why do you think I go by another nickname? It's easier, both to stay out of the spotlight and to simplify my life. And besides, they're just titles."

"I'm guessing that your Aunt Elizabeth is leaving you her title." He drew the comment out slowly, still figuring things out.

She winced. "Sort of… um…"

"Christ, Belle, can you not tell anything yourself?" Dani drew herself up to her full height. "'Aunt Elizabeth' is more commonly referred to as the queen. She's going to name Hermione as one of her official heirs, just after her own descendants."

To be continued…

* * *

**Author's Note**: How was that for a plot twist? I was a tad uncomfortable bringing in the royal family, but I'm hoping I didn't commit some major taboo by doing so. That was the question that inspired the vast majority of this fic (other than the Anti-Muggle spells): which blood is better: semi-Pureblood wizards or Muggleborn royalty? Please, please review. I was really trying to go for originality, and I'd like to hear if I succeeded. Love it? Hate it? Let me know.

And look! I updated in less than a month. Hell has frozen over.

_Destiny's Darkness_  
January 18, 2006


	9. Chapter 9

**Shades of Grey  
**By: Destiny's Darkness 

Disclaimer: Not mine in so many ways. Original ideas, however, are.

_In the last chapter:_

"_I'm guessing that your Aunt Elizabeth is leaving you her title." He drew the comment out slowly, still figuring things out._

_She winced. "Sort of… um…"_

"_Christ, Belle, can you not tell anything yourself?" Dani drew herself up to her full height. "'Aunt Elizabeth' is more commonly referred to as the queen. She's going to name Hermione as one of her official heirs, just after her own descendants."  
_

**Chapter Nine **

"Excuse me?" Ron stated, unnaturally somber, pale against the contrast of his vivid hair.

"My aunt, Elizabeth, is the Queen of England." Hermione struggled, rather desperately, to guess what he was thinking, but his expressionless eyes gave nothing away. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Draco shaking his head as though the motion could make him right or erase the nightmare of his mudblood being born royalty. And she couldn't find the courage to even glance at Harry. Dani squeezed her hand encouragingly. "Both my parents were descendants of the royal bloodline and, with their arranged marriage, produced a child also worthy of the throne."

"And they were, what, murdered?" Again Ron's voice held no clue to what could be going through his mind.

"_No!_ No. They died in a particularly gruesome car accident, on their way to a particularly unpleasant conference." She let out a bitter huff. "Some conspiracy buffs still claim it was intentional."

"You should have told us, Hermione, right from the beginning."

She jerked at Harry's enraged tone, looking up from the carpet with astonished eyes. "Told you! To what end, Harry? To be treated like glass? Or maybe to have people bowing as I walk through the hallways?" She shoved herself from the sofa, knocking Ron to the side. "You think you've got it bad, Harry? Just because people may look at you funny, every once in a while? Try dealing with press conferences because you were caused a minor car crash, barely a fender-bender, when you were learning how to drive. Or having your clothing analyzed by news anchors and seedy reporters. Or being scorned for standing up for something that popular opinion's against." She turned, brown curls flying, and jammed her finger in Harry's chest. "So there were things I didn't tell you. Deal with it. I'm allowed to keep secrets. Or would you rather I tell you every time I have my monthly visitor!"

"God, no!" Ron burst out.

Dani smirked, even as some of the tension in the room eased. "Come on, Weasley, don't hold back. Tell us how you feel."

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It's just nice to get away from all that, you know?" She shrugged. "It's nice to get away from it." Her voice trailed off. She stared into some imaginary distance before turning on her heel and disappearing into Harry's room.

Dani cocked an eyebrow and stared down the three boys. "I'm not going to be the one comforting her this time."

Draco stood. "I'll do it." From the nearly concealed expression on his face, there were only two ways he could be planning to break her out of her miserable mood swing.

"I don't think so." Harry had already made his way to his door. "Maybe next time." Turning the knob, he cast up a quick prayer to the heavens and walked in. The door clicked quietly behind him. "Hermione?"

It took his eyes a moment to adjust from the bright, sunny lighting of the living room to the dark of his bedroom with the lights off and curtains drawn. When they did, he found the brunette curled up in _his_ bed, _his_ pillow clutched desperately to her chest. She looked up blankly at his approach, and his heart wretched at her unshed tears. "I'm sorry, Harry. I should have told you, I just –"

The shear desolation in her voice chilled his heart. "Don't worry about it," he murmured, dropping to the bed beside her trembling form. "You had your reasons, I'm sure. It's just a lot—"

He was cut off when Hermione flung herself across his lap and buried her face in his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Her quick, desperate words gradually blurred more and more together until she was murmuring mindlessly, her mouth moving against his collarbone. He patted her back a little helplessly, vastly uncomfortable with this girl falling apart when it was she that had always kept him together. It was different with Cho, who could be counted on to fall apart and need comforting every month, as good as clockwork. Not that he really had to make an effort in comforting her. She just held onto him a while, soaking up his customary blathering until she was suddenly right as rain once again. It would be harder with Hermione; she wouldn't want meaningless words or easily forgotten vows. He knew in his heart, strangely enough, that careless mutterings would hurt the girl cowering in his arms more than they could ever help. So he simply held her, allowing her to feel safe and protected as she sobbed like her very heart was breaking. The intermittent gasps grew so violent that they felt as though they could knock her off his bed, and his arms wrapped tighter around her in response, as a precaution.

Gradually she ran out of steam, until finally she was somewhat still and silent. "Is that any better?" he whispered, as her breathing continued to slow somewhat.

She didn't answer. He leaned back and lifted her chin with a finger to see if she'd worn herself out and fallen asleep, but she just gazed up at him. "Hi."

His green eyes flashed with wicked amusement at her childlike greeting. "Hi." As he grinned down at her, her hand lifted to trace his mouth, controlled by something deeper than her conscious thoughts.

Something changed in the air between them.

He lowered his head a half-inch, and green eyes traced the movements of her tongue as she wet her lips nervously. Her breath could be felt, ever so lightly, breezing across his cheek and down to his gut. "Harry?"

"Shhh. Just once, Hermione, don't think."

"But—"

"Just this once."

Brown eyes locked on green, and she swallowed nervously as his head began its descent and hers instinctively countered the movement. They paused again only fractions of centimeters apart, breath mingling, heartbeats speeding up. The skin of his lips began to brush hers and the door behind them flew open.

The light flooded in around the figure in the doorway. They sat there frozen for a minute, and Harry became conscious of how obvious it was what they were doing. Or they were about to do. At the very least, what he was trying to do. "Ron?" he asked, squinting into the glare.

"Yeah, that'll do," Malfoy's voice answered in his customary drawl. "I was sent to check and make sure you two hadn't killed each other or something similar. And… obviously you're not… I mean, I'll just… go."

As the door shut again, Harry cursed Dani in his head. Thanks to her earlier comment about the possibility of a romance between Hermione and Draco, Harry almost thought he heard some trace of pain in the blond's voice. Whether it was pain at seeing the two of them so close or some other unknowable source didn't matter. It still messed with his head. Staring at the closed door another moment, he felt the woman in his lap begin to hoist herself off of the bed. Harry quickly put an end to that idea, tightening his arms around her.

"Harry, let go."

"Hmmm… I don't think so." Somehow drawing her closer, he dropped his head into her curls and allowed her scent to wash over him. "Do you know what you do to me?"

Her snort at the clichéd line came from the bushy-haired bookworm, not the sleek heir to the throne he was rapidly becoming accustomed to. "I make you study and pay attention to your schoolwork. _That's_ what I do to you."

He chuckled in response, but his arms still didn't relax their hold.

"Are you mad at me?" She whispered, her lips brushing just barely on the side of his neck just below the sensitive spot beneath his ear. "Because I didn't tell you my parents were nobility?"

"Yes."

Had he not been holding her so tightly, she would have undoubtedly jerked back away from him at his matter-of-fact tone. Instead she craned her head back in an attempt to look him deep in the eyes. But the disgust she expected wasn't there, only an amused sort of affection. "Yes?"

"Yes," he repeated. "I'm mad that you couldn't trust me enough to let me in on this aspect of your life. I'm mad that you've spent all this time pretending to be two separate people. I'm mad that I wasn't a better friend, so that you could tell me everything much the way you tell Dani. I'm mad that I can't treat you the same way that I can treat Ron."

She blushed, burrowing back into his chest and privately reveling in the feel of his arms encompassing her. "You're such a good friend, Harry," she muttered, purposefully ignoring his last statement. "I just needed a life separate from _that_ one. Where people judged me on my actions rather than my bloodline." Squirming a little in his lap, she considered the events of the day. Of the past week.

He grimaced, trying to ignore the way his body was reacting to her movements and praying she wouldn't notice. "Don't be obtuse, Hermione—"

"Oooh. Big word. Well, big-_ish_. Two points nonetheless."

"Two points? What are you… never mind. Doesn't it ever bother you that we can't have that kind of relationship? Don't you even think about it? Don't you want that purely platonic relationship sometimes?"

Immediately he knew he'd something wrong. Her spine had stiffened, snapping her back straight. Her expression had clouded, and the tension he'd almost coaxed from her flooded back full force.

"Hermione?"

"How long have you known?"

"_Known_?"

She must have seen the confusion in his eyes because her lips tightened almost imperceptibly before she explained. "How long have you known that I'm in love with you?"

Something in the pit of his stomach joined the rest of the world in plummeting through the floor. He felt his arms tighten, though no particular intention of his own, clasping around her as he heard the proverbial angels sing. She loved him? A girl like Hermione Granger, a bookworm with a secret night-life love, could love him? She was waiting for a response, but he couldn't seem to control his mouth. "Love? How could you… I mean… "

"How could I love you? _How could I love you!_ I don't know, Harry. Maybe it's the way you always try to do the right thing, even when it sucks. Maybe its the way when you play quidditch, there's nothing in the world but you, your broom, and the Snitch. Or it could be how you'll join a house-elf-liberation group for me, even if you don't think house-elves particularly want to be liberated. Or maybe it's just the way that you'll hate Snape to your dying day, even if he saved thousands of innocent children!"

He smirked at the idea without thinking, not the greatest reaction when holding angry female.

"Oh, fine. Laugh. Just laugh. Laugh at the idea that I could think myself good enough to love you. Laugh away." Her words hanging in the air, she shoved free from Harry's arms and fled into the hallway.

Or, at least, she tried to shove free from Harry's arms and flee into the hallway. Instead she found herself being whipped back by his unrelenting grip on her waist, slamming back into him and knocking them both back on the bed. Harry knew better than to trust that would stop her escape attempts, so he flipped her over onto her back and pinned her down with his own body. Laying across her, feeling her angry breath rustling his hair, he could almost be content to lay there forever. Providing, of course, that she stopped trying to knee him in the groin. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"I was trying to make an impressive exit. But that's sort of ruined when you _bloody won't let me leave!_"

He chuckled again, unable to stop himself.

"You know, I'm getting mighty tired of you laughing at me, Harry."

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmured as he buried his face in her hair once more, ignoring the way her body stiffened, though he wasn't sure if it was in response to his movement or the endearment. "I don't mean to laugh, but I don't… I mean, I didn't know you were… how you… I didn't know you felt that way about me. It never occurred to me."

She snorted, glaring at the side of his head. "Sure you didn't. What was it you and Ron were saying? How glad you were that it seemed like I had finally gotten over you?"

That made his head jerk up. "What! When did we say that?"

"That first night we were here, when the two of you were heading out to go clubbing and – you know what? It doesn't matter. What matters is that my feelings were obviously not wanted until I suddenly became attractive. Once I was pretty enough to be seen in public with the great Harry Potter, all of a sudden you started acting like a caveman. It doesn't exactly require a great stretch of the imagination or vast intelligence to make that particular connection."

"Hermione!"

"Oh, you can't deny it."

"Yes, I bloody well can!"

The crack of flesh hitting flesh overwhelmed the sudden silence. Harry stared at her in an odd mix of horror and shock as she stepped backward, his hand pressed to the ache in his cheek. She'd slapped him. Suddenly, horrifyingly, he felt a vague connection to Malfoy. To be on the other side, to see that rage and fury directed at him. She was breathtaking, flawless. No Amazonian queen could ever hope to compare. His Amazoness stared at him, no longer crying but enraged, pinning him in his place before turning and making her way out of the room. It was all he could do to stare after her without succumbing to the devastation, caused by his gut instinct that he'd ruined things forever.

To be continued...

**Author's Note**: Erm… hi? Sorry about the wait? This is the point where I'd offer my excuse if, you know, I actually had one. Blame the lack of inspiration and, more importantly, the lack of will-power to force myself to work on this chapter. I know that this pathetic little excuse for a chapter doesn't make up for it either, no matter how much I enjoyed particular bits and pieces (the almost kiss, for example). Anyway, the next chapter'll possibly be the last. That is, if I finish with the Harry-Hermione pairing. A good number of people are pushing for Draco and Hermione, though, so we'll have to see...

Additionally, I was considering having the group head back to Hogwarts, but no one seemed at all interested in that idea. The main reason I thought about it was an entertaining little scene with Hermione coming up against boys drinking in the library and her unusual method of dealing with them, but that'll work as a one-shot I suppose. I'm not sure if I'm actually going to include the ball, or just mention it, but let me know what you all would like. If you do want me to send them back to Hogwarts, please review and let me know. I'm indecisive. Tell me what you want to see!

Again, sorry about the wait between chapters.

Destiny's Darkness  
4/25/2006


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